


Fractured Lines

by AllurasMovingCastle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Art, Blade of Marmora Keith, Canon Universe, Fluff, Frustrated Keith, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Time Loop, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-03-15 11:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13612770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllurasMovingCastle/pseuds/AllurasMovingCastle
Summary: Keith wakes up to the worst day of his life. Then, he’s forced to repeat it – over and over and over again.He doesn’t know how or why he’s stuck in a time loop, but there is one thing hedoesknow: he’s going to save Lance.





	1. Déjà vu

**Iteration Zero**

_Beep. Beep._

The smell of burning electrical cord assaults Keith’s nostrils, jarring his subconscious from oblivion and into reality.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Groggily reaching around, he tries to orientate himself within the small cockpit of the pod, barely enough room for a single passenger with the controls. Keith vaguely notices the firework display of the panel before him, colours flashing into his vision as his tries to clear his bleary eyes. He can taste metal at the back of his throat, and wonders if he’s sustained a mild concussion.

_Beep. Beep._

He grinds his teeth in response to the incessant alarms piercing his aching head. Finally regaining control, he notices the pod’s warning that the external seals have been compromised. Keith scans the levels of the spaceship. Pressure is fine, temperature a little lower than normal, and oxygen levels hadn’t been affected yet. That would explain the burning he thinks, double checking his helmet is secured. He’s still not sure how long he was knocked out for, but he knows it couldn’t have been for long.

_Beep-_

Slamming his fist against the control panel, the alarm finally stutters and stops. Keith leans forward to survey the damage around him. There are a few Galra ships around, mostly blown to shit – damage he did himself. Kolivan and his ship are nowhere to be seen, but Keith isn’t surprised. After his collision with the last enemy vessel, he no doubt left with the intel they were able to gather on the mission. Keith finally lets reality settle in. His ship is fucked and getting worse fast. Okay, he thinks trying to ignore the tremor in his hands, breath and internalise. He presses down on the controls to open the pod. A hiss sounds as it tries to equilibrate with the outside environment, but the damage to the seal causes a warning to flare up again and the pod stays closed. Groaning at having to move his stiff limbs, Keith kicks up into the roof once, twice – the roof pops open on the third try. He’s briefly enveloped in bitter cold, before his Marmora armour automatically begins to self-regulate, pulsing a brighter purple. Pushing himself out of the cockpit, he propels himself towards the nearest Galra cruiser that looks mostly intact. He peers in, but it’s completely dark. He can vaguely make out a destroyed drone, before propelling himself to the next ship. This one is still alight, the drone inside convulsing as it short-circuits. Opening the safety latch, Keith pries the hatch. Grabbing the drone, he pulls it out and tosses it, not turning to watch it spin away into open space. Pulling himself in, he places his hand on the console. It lights up in recognition of whatever Galra DNA is present in his body, the lights glowing purple. The pod takes a moment to stabilise, then Keith is able to input his destination coordinates as it takes off with a stutter before smoothly sailing back towards the castle.

Miscellaneous whirring and beeping of the small spaceship are the only noises that disrupt the otherwise-silence of space. Keith uses the time it takes to reach the castle to try and compose himself. Focusing on steadying his breathing, he runs shaky hands over his head, face, arms and down to his legs. Despite the viscous ache that slugs through his veins and muscles, he decides that no serious damage has occurred. He feels a little claustrophobic in the small pod, surprised to realise how accustomed he’d become to the high ceilings of the castle and immense size of the Lions. Peering out into space, he knows that it must be close to midnight in the castle, but it’s easy to forget about time when days and nights don’t exist. In many ways it reminds him of the desert. The bitter cold at night, endless expanses of _nothing_ , and the feeling of being utterly alone. However, unlike Earth, being in space was never dark. The blackness that seems to stretch on infinitely was regularly punctuated by stars, galaxies and planets that lit up the screen of the pod with coloured lights like a cityscape that stretched completely around him. It didn’t take long until he could see the Altean castle.

Standing in the hangar, Keith faced the lions of Voltron. He felt a tug of longing towards Red, the sliver of their bond still present despite the time that had passed since he last flew her. He couldn’t help but think of Lance, and hoped that he was able to fly her properly. Looking at the other lions, he can’t help the stab of pain in his gut, knowing it comes from missing the team. He desperately wished he could still fly with them, but knows they don’t need him anymore. Now that Shiro can pilot Black, Keith didn’t have to keep screwing up as their temporary leader. He could be more productive with the Blade of Marmora – despite disagreeing with Kolivan’s methods. Trudging through the dark halls of the castle, Keith slowly makes his way to his room. The door opens for him, and he tosses his helmet into the corner of the room before collapsing on the bed.

\--------------

Keith wakes up grumpy and sore. His headache has only gotten worse since his rest, and he has a bitter taste in his mouth. Heading into the bathroom he examines himself in the mirror for the first time since the mission. For the most part he looks better than he feels, which is a relief. He has a small bruise beginning to bloom on his forehead – no doubt from where his head smacked onto his helmet from the crash. He smiles at his reflection, noticing the blood still in his mouth around his teeth. Searching his mouth with his tongue, he identifies a cut on the inside of his cheek that stings when prodded. He can’t feel it bleeding anymore, so he rinses his mouth out until his teeth are clean. Scooping some more water into his hands he washes off the sweat and grime from his face, running his damp fingers through his hair to tame it into position. He works out the snags with his fingers, until he looks presentable. Stepping back into his bedroom, he pulls off his clothes from the day before, reaching for his black shirt and jeans.

He finds the team already in the dining room, seated around the long rectangular table. Lance has his arm draped over the back of his chair, leaning to face Hunk as they talk animatedly. He notices Pidge is sitting beside Shiro, engaged in conversation with Allura and Coran. Breakfast is dispensed on large white plates that line the center of the table, filled with green goo and a small selection of alien fruits that have been sliced and also placed on the platters. Small unidentifiable garnishes implicate the arrangement as another one of Hunk’s creations, which makes Keith’s stomach growl in anticipation of good food. He slides into a chair across from Shiro, and begins dishing himself large portions of everything he can reach. He notices Shiro studying his face with a frown, and ignores the gaze of his brother for as long as possible.

“Keith,” Shiro eventually starts, and Keith supresses a groan before meeting the older man’s eyes, “you’re injured.”

Keith remembers the bruise on his head, and shrugs his shoulders, “it’s nothing.” Shiro doesn’t look convinced, but also knows better than to press Keith in front of everyone. Their brief exchange draws Allura’s attention to Keith.

“How are your missions going? This most recent one had you away for a while,” she asks. Two weeks and three days to be exact, he thinks. Or possibly four days, he isn’t sure if he actually got in before midnight castle-time.

“They’re fine,” he answers, “we’re slowly uncovering more about the Galra bases and trade routes.” He doesn’t think about elaborating further, and before Allura can ask their conversation is disrupted by a snicker that grates Keith in a way that’s almost physically painful. He already knows the origin of the noise before he turns to face the offender.

“Well, you’ve been missing the _real_ hard work here,” Lance says, leaning forward to brandish his spoon at Keith, “choreography, acting, spreading some razzle dazzle across the galaxy.”

Keith doesn’t bother trying to supress his eye roll, “Those poor innocent civilians, Zarkon’s rule would be more merciful than having to watch your dancing.”

He was pleased to see Lance’s cheeks puff in indignation. “Watch it Mullet! Jealousy looks about as good on you as your stupid haircut.”

Keith couldn’t help but get riled up himself. What was the boy’s problem with his _hair_? Lots of people have long hair! Keith smacked his hands on the table, ready to fire a retort back.

“ _Enough_ ,” Shiro commands, before Keith can get the insult off his tongue. He sits back with a flop, crossing his arms across his chest as he broods. “Keith…” He says more gently, but Keith pushes himself away from the table and stands up.

“I’m going to go train,” he says, stalking out of the room. He can hear Lance being reprimanded, but the noises eventually fall out of earshot as he makes his way to the training room. Everything is how he remembers it – the soft mats that make up the floor of the room, the weapons lined along racks near the entry, and the various complicated electronic equipment ready to create fighting simulations. He grabs at some spare training clothes, and takes them to get changed. Once he’s done he surveys the weapons available. Picking out a knife from the rack, he weighed it in his hand. “Start level one,” he says loudly to the room. A whirring noise fills the large open space as a simple bot appears from the floor. Keith doesn’t hesitate to rush forwards towards it, dispatching the simulated enemy before the automated voice barely finishes announcing _commencing level one_. Keith waits for level two, anticipating the levels to creep in difficulty to distract his mind.

Eventually, Keith is panting hard as he feels the sweat trickle down his neck. He quickly pushes the strands of hair out of his eyes as five bots all equipped with knives of their own appear from the floor. He can barely hear the clicking of their mechanics as they advance towards him, his ears filled with the sound of blood rushing as his heart pulses in his head from the exertion. He can’t help the smile on his face as he leaps forward, his muscles protest but he lives for feeling of pushing past that pain, testing the limits of his stamina. He immediately sweeps the blade down shattering the metal casing of the head of the bot, ripping his knife out and dodging an attack aimed at him from his right. The broken foe disappears through the floor as Keith feints towards the bot that attacked him, and instead throws the knife directly into the head of the one to his left. Two down, he thinks, jumping over an advancing automation to rip his knife out of the fallen bot’s head before it too disappears into the floor. He pauses as the remaining three circle him slowly. Finally, one rushes forward to attack, Keith kicks out low at it, dodging the knife while sending it flying backwards. He spins remaining crouched, and bursts up at the enemy behind him, the thrust dragging the knife through the chest of the bot before flying out and upwards. It stutters and falls back, but Keith’s attention is fixed on the third bot, advancing upon him. It swings violently towards where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, but he rolls to the side, sweeping it off balance. He quickly slams the knife down into it before it has a chance to right itself. He rolls off the bot just as a knife swings down, the last bot back after been sent flying across the room earlier. It’s easy for Keith to finish the last one off, and once it too disappears into the ground he takes a moment to regain his composure. His arms are burning from the strain of slicing and stabbing through plates of metal, and he can feel his heart pounding in his throat. Lifting his arms behind his head to breathe easier he waits for his energy to return. _Commence level twelve?_ The electronic voice asks into the room.

“No,” a voice answers from behind Keith, before he has a chance to calm his breathing and answer. He spins around, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Shiro watching with an amused smile. “I see your work with the Blade of Marmora has only improved your reflexes.”

Keith can’t help but smile a little at the praise, “it’s a lot harder when fighting enemies that are always trying to predict your movements.”

Shiro nods in agreement, “that’s true, want to test your skills on something with reflexes just as good as yours?” Keith looks at him surprised; he and Shiro hadn’t sparred together in ages. He nods and Shiro begins to twist his body to loosen up while Keith stores the training knife away. They stand in front of each other, both ready in defensive poses and waiting for the other to begin. Keith’s patience breaks first, and he quickly swings his arm forward aiming for Shiro’s head. Shiro’s reflexes are quicker, and he was anticipating Keith’s attack, so his arm blocks the punch easily. Keith bounces back on his feet lightly, having just enough time to land before Shiro swings his own punch towards Keith. He blocks on reflex, before swinging his leg up before Shiro has even drawn his arm back. Shiro grunts in surprise as he’s forced to twist out of the way, avoiding the kick.

They continue sparring like this for what feels like ages. Keith was already tired before they began, and he’s encroaching on exhausted at this point. He can see the sweat beading on Shiro’s forehead and the concentration creasing his brow as he goes through the motions of block, attack, block, attack. They had both began to fight a bit sluggishly, so Keith decides on a quick attack as he ducks under Shiro’s slicing arm, aiming for a body shot. Years of experience have Shiro side-stepping Keith on reflex and slamming an open palm down on his shoulder, while simultaneously sweeping his feet out from under him. Keith hits the floor with a loud _oof!_ He quickly rolls over onto his back, only to have Shiro’s Galran arm pointing down at his nose. They remain in the position for a second before Shiro offers his hand to help Keith up. He takes the offer and shakes out his limbs.

“You’re good, but still not good enough!” Shiro teases, patting Keith’s back as they walk to get a drink and take a rest.

“There were times where I almost got you,” Keith grumbles, before Lance flies into the room with Pidge close behind.

“Why is there a Galran battle ship in the hangar?!” He accuses, pointing a finger at Keith. Keith sighs as Shiro looks at him with surprise.

“My pod got damaged. I just commandeered one that wasn’t of use to the Galra anymore.” He cringed at the concerned look Shiro gave him.

“Keith–” Shiro began, but Keith shook his head.

“I told you, I’m _fine_ ,” he glared at Lance as the boy tutted at him.

“Well we might not be fine! What if it’s some kind of weapon that could blow the ship up?! Or worse!” Lance cried. Pidge watched the exchange between the boys quietly pondering.

“I can check it out,” she finally says. Lance frowns at her, obviously having let her tag along to defend him. “I’ve wanted a chance to play with some Galra tech anyway, and I might even be able to get some info from it.”

Shiro nods at what she’s saying.

“I think that’s a good idea, but make sure you’re careful Pidge,” he says as he casts a look at Keith, “Lance is right, we don’t know if it’s dangerous or not.”

Shiro follows Pidge out, with comments that he wants to check the ship out too before Pidge jumps in and starts messing with it. Keith crosses his arms and regards Lance, who is still watching Keith unhappily. Keith wants to snap at Lance, to start an argument, but he stops himself. Breathe, internalise.

“I can get rid of it, if it bothers you that much,” Keith says instead. Lance seems to ponder this for a moment with a frown.

“No… -It’s fine… -I guess,” he mumbles, “I guess it’s good that you were able to find a way back, anyway,” his voice is so low Keith barely manages to catch what he says. The strangeness of Lance’s words throws Keith off a bit, but he’s mildly impressed that Lance is capable of talking to him normally, or just being quiet in general. He doesn’t know how to reply without shattering the atmosphere, so he takes a while to chew over words in his head indecisively. His lack of immediate response seems to fluster Lance, who begins waving his arms about wildly. “But don’t think this means you can just do this whenever you want!” Keith shrugs with an almost-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” is all he offers. It seems to be enough though, because as he turns to leave, Lance follows him out. As if forgetting the past morning had occurred, Lance starts chattering to Keith about the recruiting they had to do, using elaborate hand gestures to illustrate his descriptions of fireworks and streamers that rained down as they manoeuvred their lions. It seemed that Voltron was having success in expanding the coalition against the Galra Empire, albeit slowly. It warmed Keith to witness Lance’s enthusiasm, knowing how important Voltron was to him and yet how insecure he was in his place amongst the team. Lance thrived under the attention being a paladin brought; the attention Keith didn’t need, didn’t _want_. It had been an easy decision to leave Red for Lance to pilot so that he could stay a part of Voltron, and Keith was making more progress with the Blade. Despite knowing this, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the adventures the team now had without him, missing the jokes they shared. Heck, he even missed Lance’s cocky attitude sometimes. Keith doesn’t realise how long they’ve been walking together until Lance stops outside his own room, giving him a nod and disappearing inside. It leaves Keith to collect his wandering thoughts, before he finishes the short journey to his own room several more doors down the hall. Upon entering he takes in the small and tidy space. His Marmora helmet still lying in the corner where he haphazardly tossed it when he came in, a wardrobe set into the wall that contained a modest set of drawers and his recently unused paladin armour. His bed was built into the wall on the opposite side of the room, the grey blankets pulled up messily from the morning. He went over and made it properly before picking up his helmet and putting it away as well. In the bathroom, he regarded himself. His hair was a mess again, and his bruise now a deep purple. Tugging off his training clothes, he steps under the hot water that soothes his tired muscles.

\--------------

The team gathers around the dining table, the first time in weeks they’ve all had dinner together. Keith can’t help but feel a little out of place since he’s so often away on missions, and the subtle changes that gradually occur are jarringly apparent. Allura seems more relaxed around the team now, joining in on their conversations without having to constantly question what a squirrel is and what do you do at a cinema? Keith can recognise that his brother is happier too, and although the weight of the war still sat heavily in the small downward angle of his mouth, he was laughing with the team and enjoying himself. There were other things Keith noticed about the paladins, such as how Pidge had gotten a little taller, Hunk a little slimmer, and Lance’s hair a little longer. The way they sat around the table had also changed. They were closer together now as Keith sat at the outskirts of the arrangement to compensate for the usually empty space, like the tide slowly drawing away traces of footprints in the sand. Despite this, Keith feels a muted sort of tingly happiness that comes from being able to sit with everyone again. He can almost pretend that he still pilots Red, and that Shiro never went missing so that he didn’t have to pilot Black. Sometimes, at dinners like these, he even pretends that they’ve already defeated Zarkon and they don’t have to worry about fighting in a war.

Lance leans over, still recovering from laughter after Hunk accidently spilled a fat green glob of goo on Pidge’s head. “Hey man, are you okay?”

“Yeah, really good,” Keith says honestly.

“You look constipated.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “ _Thanks_ , it’s called ‘thinking’ – maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Uh, I actually think a lot, and I definitely think better than you.”

“You can’t think better than someone, Lance.”

“Obviously you can, ‘cause I do!”

“Yeah Lance, you’re the best thinker I know!” Hunk chimes in, and Lance leans across the table to give his friend a high-five with a whoop. The ends of his jacket drag through the food arranged on the centre of the table and Pidge shouts a disgusted _ew Lance!_ – Lance proceeds to flick it off him and onto Keith, who recoils with surprise.

“Ugh! Lance!”

The offending boy just shrugs with his characteristic grin, and Keith takes the opportunity to flick goo from his fork. The large blob splatters against Lance’s cheek, slowly sliding down his face as his expression is frozen in shock. The rest of the team waits holding their breath as Lance begins to smirk, reaching down to grab a handful of the goo on his plate. Keith manages to duck under the table before he’s hit with the alien food, and it takes all of three ticks before sounds of a fight start breaking out as Lance’s obviously misaimed throw hits someone else instead.

\--------------

After the chaos of dinner everyone heads to their rooms to wash and then to take the opportunity to relax. Keith feels a little conflicted, torn between wanting to spend more time with his team-mates that he misses but also wanting to give them the space they probably enjoy when they can get it. He sits down on his bed, tapping his foot as he wonders when his next Blade mission will be. He hasn’t heard from Kolivan yet, not even a reply to his message stating he made it back to the castle. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as Keith often wouldn’t hear from the rebel Galran until he needed to be briefed on an upcoming job. Not wanting to fall behind in his training, Keith decides to practise some knife techniques with his Marmora blade. He lightly runs through different attacks and defensive manoeuvres until the castle lights subtly dim, indicating it was entering the night-cycle. He decides to pack up and have an early night, after the few hours he only managed to get the night before.

What feels like several hours later, Keith still lies rigidly with a frown. The air in the room curls around Keith’s legs and sits heavy on his chest. He flipped from his back into his side, pulling his knees up into a more comfortable position, but it didn’t help at all. Rolling onto his back again he stared up at the ceiling above his bed, glaring into the dark as if it was the room’s fault he couldn’t sleep. And maybe it partially was – it wasn’t often he went to bed without being exhausted. Normally he was asleep before his head had touched the pillow after missions with the Blades. He lies like that for several more ticks before he gives up, hoping that a walk might remind his body that it was tired and needed to sleep.

The hall is quiet and dark, the castle’s cycle set to late at night, as Keith chooses a random direction to start walking in. While the silence is peaceful after an obnoxiously loud day, something about the endless empty halls and wide, plain rooms feel like looking at a gaping wound. Like something was supposed to exist here but was savagely carved out, leaving a husk as the only remnant. Keith supposes this was why Allura never wandered around the castle – it was probably too raw a memory of the people that once filled those rooms. Keith can sympathise in his own way after having lost everything himself, left to rot on his own with only his hope of finding Shiro to keep him sane. But he had gained something since then. He hadn’t just got Shiro back, but realises he’d also gained a family again as well. As much as Hunk was a mystery to him, how Pidge secretly scared him, how Lance annoyed him, and how Allura and Coran struggled to understand him, they had become his own dysfunctional family. As if conjured into existence by his thoughts, Keith turns a particularly sharp corner in the hall and bumps into Lance, with the boy emitting a surprised squeak.

“Did you just make that noise?” Keith asks, rubbing his nose.

“What noise?” Lance answers indignantly.

“That squeak.”

“I did not squeak!”

“Then who did?”

“Allura’s mice must be around,” Lance says, spinning around as if he expected to see them. Keith rolled his eyes at the display.

“Can’t sleep?” Keith asks.

“No, I just walk around the castle late at night looking for alien stowaways.”

Keith frowns – surely Allura would know if aliens were hiding on the ship? And what would they eat? Keith thought the only food was found in the kitchen and then they’d _definitely_ know if someone had been in there.

“That was a joke, Mullet.”

“Oh,” Keith said, tilting his head, “aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?”

“Hey!” Lance protested, before frowning, “wait… are you being sarcastic now?”

“You’ll never know.”

“Keith!” Lance complained, following him as Keith continued his trek through the castle. “…I couldn’t sleep,” he answers the question seriously this time. Keith wonders if he should ask why, but doesn’t want to try and navigate another sarcastic response from Lance. “What about you? What are you doing walking around so late? Or early,” Lance says, scrunching his nose up at the thought of how much sleep he’s probably going to end up getting.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep either.”

They both lapse into a silence, and Keith is vaguely aware that he doesn’t really recognise this part of the castle. There are several small windows lining one wall, and they pass a few airlocks. The opposite wall has the occasional door, and Keith imagines it must have served as some kind of delivery bay as the main entrance seemed too extravagant. The place now lay desolate, much like the rest of the castle. Keith takes a peek at Lance through the cover of his hair, and frowns at the strange expression he sees there. He’s overcome with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he doesn’t know how.

“Lance–,” is all he manages to get out before a jarringly loud siren begins echoing through the castle. Fluorescent lights illuminate the halls in flashing red and white.

“What the hell?” Lance cries, spinning back to face the way they had come. “What did you touch?!”

Keith just shoots him an unimpressed glare. “We need to get to the others,” he says before taking off at a run back in the direction he hoped was the control room. He didn’t need to turn around to know Lance was running close behind him.

Their heavy footfalls and laboured breathing were the only sounds they could hear over the siren until they rounded a bend in the corridor. Keith skidded to a halt that almost sent Lance crashing into him, but managed to recover into a fighting stance as he noticed the large group of Galran sentries and general before them. Keith grinds his teeth in frustration. They had no weapons or armour on them, but the way back to their team was on the other side. They would have to fight their way through with only their fists, Keith realises. He casts a quick glance to his left, where Lance looked ready to fight. He knew that Lance wasn’t the best at close combat, especially against an opponent with weapons. The Galra general, expecting paladins to appear after the alarm sounded, recovers from the surprise quickly and shouts orders to attack. The sentries raise their guns simultaneously, and Keith manages to lunge to the side and taking Lance down with him behind a forgotten crate, as bullets are fired at where they had been standing a breath earlier. Keith recovers instantly, and dashes forward from where he had landed on top of Lance to attack. He managed to take a slow sentry by surprise, grabbing its gun as he kicked it backwards and using his momentum to send it stumbling away. Feeling more confident with a weapon in his hands, he rolled to the side, dodging the barrage of bullets sent his way by the other sentries. He immediately started firing at them while ducking from a swipe of a close enemy’s sword. Keith manages to squeeze a blast off that hits its chest plate and sends it careening, but noticed too late as another sentry had been lining him up. Keith clenched his teeth, expecting to take the hit and hoping it wouldn’t incapacitate him, when suddenly its head exploded sideways in a shower of sparks, cable and purple fluid. Keith spun to look behind him, where he realised Lance had managed to fight his way to one of the fallen sentries that Keith had dispatched and claim its weapon.

Lance noticed Keith staring at him and quickly gave him a firm nod of his head before he started firing back at the other sentries. They were clustering in the hall, deliberately blocking their path. Keith dashes forward, knocking one over with the butt of his gun. He starts taking down the sentries to the left that were taking up most of the space in the hall, while he leaves Lance to take on the ones to the right. They seemed to be endless, swarming around him and forcing him to dodge more than he could attack. His body groaned in protest, his bruises from the previous day throbbing with each time he bumped them. Keith was almost through the other side, with a clear path to escape to where the rest of the paladins were when he heard a grunt from Lance.

Turning back, Keith saw Lance fighting with the Galran general. He has a long knife drawn and was swinging violently at Lance, who had no option other than to block the blows with his gun, unable to shoot from the proximity. Keith raises his weapon, ready to shoot, before sentries jump in his path and block his way to Lance. Growling furiously Keith kicks and shoots his way through the Galra but it seemed like whenever he took one down another just took its place. He watches helplessly as Lance manages to catch the knife in the hook of the grip of gun and twists causing it to spring from the general’s grip and clatter away on the floor. While Lance had been performing the manoeuvre the general’s other hand had shot out and gripped Lance by the throat, slamming his head violently against the wall.

Lance groaned loudly as he tried to blink away the dizziness and blood that had started to run down his forehead. Keith watches in horror as a cruel smile comes over the general’s features as he smacks a hand against the control panel on the wall, causing the airlock interior door to slide open. He tosses Lance inside, slamming down on the “open airlock” button. An automated voice soundes over the din of the battle _, airlock opening in one minute: decompressurisation beginning_. As Lance managed to pull himself together he groggily stood up from the floor, a look of horror overtaking his face as the general shot at the control panel, destroying it. The airlock continued to function normally, and decompression began.

Lances eyes meet Keith’s. “Keith,” he chokes out. A yell rips its way through Keith’s throat as he begins to fight back against the sentries, energy he hadn’t had before pumping through his veins as he clawes his way towards Lance. Suddenly the Galra general appeared before Keith, smirking as he saw Keith’s gaze constantly snapping back towards Lance. A hissing sound began filling the air as the airlock chamber started to equilibrate with the external environment. Lance was pounding against the doors, throwing himself repeatedly in the attempt to get them open. The Galra general attacks Keith with his knife as he had done with Lance. However, unlike Lance, Keith had extensive experience in close combat. He sidesteps a jab aimed for his stomach, swinging his arms down at the same time as he brings his knee up with as much force as he can muster. A terrible _snap_ fills the halls, accompanied by the Galra’s wailing as he clutches at his broken arm. Keith swipes the knife from the floor, plunging it into the general’s neck, raggedly slicing through rope tendons and hard cartilage that severed with loud pops.

Keith didn’t hesitate as he rushed over to Lance, who now lent against the clear wall of the airlock as he heaved in breaths violently – but the oxygen levels were too low. He looked groggy and his eyes began to droop as his brain began to shut down. Keith began screaming and pounding on the door, willing Lance to last a little longer, to stay awake a few more ticks as he tried to revive the panel uselessly as it crackled. His attention returned to Lance as he heard him groan his name softly.

“Shit!” Keith cried, “Lance, NO!” he pounded against the glass. His world was plunged under icy water, his body numb as he was forced to watch in excruciating slow motion as Lance became unresponsive to his calls. It felt like an eternity, and Keith’s veins froze over, his heart stuttering as the external doors opened. The remaining difference in air pressure pulled Lance out and into space, but by the time he had disappeared from Keith’s sight Lance was already dead.

Keith fell heavily against the door as he heard the vague shutting of the airlock. A loud ringing noise was filling his head, and was the only sound over the pulsing of his temples. He groaned as he struggled to breathe, choking on the sudden and unforgiving emptiness that Lance left behind. His whole body was in agony as he shook, like a knife has been lodged in his belly and was slowly dragging up and tearing at his ribs. Rocking on his knees he whispered to himself over and over, “no no no no no _no_ ,” while the tears fell uninhibited down his face.

Sirens still wailed in the background, and the sounds of distant footsteps drew his attention to the situation again. He tried to swallow the hot coals in his throat but it stayed as a lump he struggled to breathe around. He swore to make sure no Galra got off this ship alive, for Lance. Picking himself up off the ground, he grabbed a discarded gun and knife that sat in a pool of blood.

He made his way down the hall following the sounds of battle, not being able to feel his body at all as he ran to the rest of the team. Rounding the corner he spotted Shiro, Pidge and Hunk on the other side of some Galra sentries. Hate pulsed through his blood, scalding and bubbling as it reached his fingertips to sear the knife in his hands. Dashing forward, he began slashing at the sentries where the team finally noticed him.

“Keith,” he distantly heard someone yell, although their voice sounded far away and underwater. A sentry he hadn’t noticed fired at him, the plasma bullet skimming his arm as he failed to dodge in time. Intense shocks flared at the site of the wound, travelling up his arm as the pain bloomed. He could smell the burnt skin, but the pain also cleared his head. He could feel, and the fog over his brain lifted briefly.

“Keith!!” The voice yelled again. Keith snapped his head around to see Shiro desperately fighting his way towards him, Galran arm slashing through enemies easily. Keith fought his way over to him, his arm burning each time he lifted it to fight, but the pain kept him grounded. Kept him from thinking about things other than the task at hand, to fight and survive. Finally, Keith reached Shiro.

“Shiro,” he gasped through panting breaths. Shiro gripped his good shoulder firmly, visibly relaxing once he could confirm Keith was mostly intact.

“We just need to find Lance now,” Shiro said and Keith stomach seized up painfully. Keith began choking on his words, trying to find a way to say, to tell–

“Uhh… Guys!” Hunk calls out to them, swinging his bayard around. He and Pidge both had their bayards – they had been working late into the night with them close. Keith turns to see what he was talking about, and sees a new wave of Galra sentries spill into the room.

“Allura!” Shiro called, “we need to wormhole soon!” Keith began ruthlessly fighting back the Galra easily cutting down any that stood is his path. Pidge and Hunk joined his side, as they manage to push against the wall of enemies that tried to overwhelm them. Hunk and Pidge had improved, Keith noticed, as their fighting was more polished and precise than he remembered. With their combined efforts they manage to take down the Galra sentries, broken electrical automatons littering the floor.

The team stumble into the control room, exhausted, as Allura prepares the castle to wormhole. Hunk collapses on a chair and Pidge falls on top of him.

“The castle is almost ready for wormhole travel,” she began, “where is Lance?”

Shiro had a firm set to his jaw. “We don’t know,” he says, “we can’t leave until we find him to make sure he’s alright.”

“Check his room, he’s probably been sleeping this whole time,” Pidge tries to joke, but her voice is ragged with exhaustion and worry. Keith’s chest clenches painfully – he needs to say something, to tell them what happened. He tries to form the words, but can’t push his voice past the blockage in his throat. He realises he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to make it true by everyone else knowing. But he knows it’s a reality he can’t escape.

Shiro turns towards the door. “Alright everyone if we split up we can cover the area faster and then get to safety quicker, we don’t know if more Galra forces are on their way.”

Everyone gets up to leave except Allura and Coran who are manning the controls. Hunk has worry creased deeply into his forehead, and Pidge looks like she’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but the grooves around her mouth betray her true feelings. Keith is internally screaming, TELL THEM TELL THEM NOW, trying to force himself to move, to talk – to do _anything_. The numbness has come back, the fog clouding his head again making everything muffled and distant. His arm still throbs painfully, and he focuses on it to try and keep himself present. The team are at the door now, almost out of the room. Keith pushes a finger nail deep into his wound. White hot pain flashes across his vision and he has to swallow back his scream. But it grounds him again, and he forces his mouth to form words.

“–gone,” Keith forces out, and it sounds so broken and garbled even to his own ears. But it’s loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Keith can see Shiro falter as he turns and takes in Keith’s expression.

“What, Keith?” He says before heading back to him. “Are you okay?” He notices how Keith is now visibly trembling.

Keith tries again, “gone– It... he– he’s gone.”

Shiro still looks confused, but it’s Allura who now speaks. “What do you mean gone? Is he not on the ship?” She gasps, “the Galra, did they take–”

“Then we have to get him now!” Hunk bursts out, and Keith can see how he grips the door frame for support.

Suddenly the room is too small, there are too many people staring at him, wanting him to say the words they need to hear, but he can’t, he _can’t_ because Lance is _gone_. Keith crumbles to the ground, he can’t breathe, he’s going to suffocate – to die in the airlock and never see the team, see Lance, again. The ringing in his ears is now overwhelming as he tastes blood in his mouth. Just when he thinks this is it, he’s going to die because how can he possibly go on, Shiro is there pushing his head between his knees and soothing him with gentle words. With the reassuring hand on his back, Keith realises he can finally breathe again. He gulps hungry breaths down, choking on his tears, trying to keep composure but feels himself breaking apart into thousands of scattering pieces. When he raises his head again Shiro grips his uninjured arm, firm but soothing.

“Keith, we need to know what’s happened.”

“The Galra–,” he chokes, pauses, and tries again, “the airlock– he didn’t make it–,” he barely has the breath to finish ‘make it’ as another sob tears through his chest. But realisation dawns on everyone’s faces and now they know, know that Keith was _there_ and didn’t save Lance, didn’t get to him fast enough. Let him die. They’re all still staring at him with wide eyes, and Keith doesn’t know how they can stand to still look at him. The sound of Allura’s sobbing cuts through the silence, and it’s like the first drop of rain to reach the earth before a storm, because everyone else follows. Hunk collapses to the floor, like Keith had done, while Pidge stays standing but sways dangerously. Shiro is no longer capable of comforting anyone as he sits back on his heels, his eyes not quite able to focus on anything.

Keith leans back against the wall, turning to look at the stars through the giant view panels. Despite knowing that so many of those glittering lights are planets filled with civilisations that need them– need Voltron, Keith has never felt so alone in the galaxy. His energy finally fizzles out and he doesn’t fight the exhaustion as he falls into a dreamless sleep.

\--------------

Keith wakes up disorientated in his room. An ache that seeps deep into his bones makes him groan as he tries to sit up. His head is pounding painfully, and he has a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s about to drag himself out of bed to check how he looks in the bathroom when memories of the day before violently crash into him. A strangled cry slips through his lips, as he remembers the Galra, the fighting, losing Lance – _Lance_. Keith stumbles to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet and begins heaving as his stomach churns painfully but has nothing to push out. Bile fills his mouth and nose, and he spits the acid out, taking a few steadying breaths before he faces himself in the mirror.

He recoils in surprise, a feeling of déjà vu overcoming him. Keith examines himself in the mirror, he’s somehow in his Blade of Marmora armour again, and his bruised face is still a pale grey. Almost too afraid, he struggles to open his mouth to examine his teeth, and sure enough the blood encrusting them is there too. He rinses his teeth, changes his clothes, and shakily sits down on the bed. This all seems so familiar, because it’s happened before, hasn’t it? Was someone playing some cruel, sick joke on him? Putting him in bed, dressing him in is Marmora armour? He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He’s already experienced this day, had already suffered through it, no fate could be cruel enough to make him live it again. He’s just overly distressed and his mind is messing with him, muddling his memory. That had to be the explanation, because the alternative would be Keith being in some kind of repeat of his day… a sort of _time loop_. He decides he can’t put off the inevitable and has to face everyone at some point. He wonders where they’d be, grieving in their rooms? Keith is sure Shiro would be waiting for him in the main living area, and he tries to convince himself he _won’t_ break down again.

He leaves his room without fixing his hair, or cleaning his face, heading to find Shiro. He stops when he hears voices coming from the dining room, straining to hear – was someone _laughing?_ Fury bubbles deep within his chest. How can anyone laugh when Lance isn’t here, when Lance will never tell another stupid joke –.  

Keith freezes at the doorway of the dining room, staring in complete shock at what he sees before him. Everyone is at the table, chatting, and they all turn at Keith’s entrance. He must look awful, from the expression they’re all sending him, but his heart begins to thump painfully fast as he chokes on his words, trying to understand what’s happening.

“Whoa, who died?” Lance teases.


	2. Empty

**Iteration One**

_“Woah, who died?” Lance teases._

Keith’s breath catches in his throat as he stumbles back out of the room and leans against the wall for support, his legs shaking to maintain his weight. His head throbs with the overwhelming realisation of what he’s seeing, of what this could mean. Lance was alive and having breakfast with everyone as if he hadn’t been beaten bloody and suffocated the day before. It hits Keith hard when his brain finally catches up, because Lance hadn’t been hurt and murdered, at least not yet. And he realises, with even more shocking clarity, that if he isn’t going insane and _is_ stuck repeating the day, he can save Lance.

Keith pushes a shaky hand against his chest, trying to contain the shuddering heartbeat that threatens to pound its way through his visceral cavity. He suddenly feels too exposed in the hallway, as he slides down the wall to crouch with his head in his hands, the space of the corridor oppressive and suffocating in its expanse. He wants to back into a corner, needs the comforting protection of having his sides covered. His heart is _hurting_ and he pushes harder against it, willing it to slow while venomous pain curls in his gut.

Suddenly, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Whoa there, is everything okay?” Shiro asks, turning Keith to face him.

“Uh…” Keith begins, disorientated from being pulled out of his growing anxiety, before it had the chance to fully bloom. “Yeah, I’m fine… Everything’s fine.”

Shiro looks at him sceptically, turning his head to inspect his injuries more closely. “These don’t look fine.”

Keith shrugs in response, “I’ve had worse,” and they both know it’s not a lie. Shiro still maintains his scepticism but opts to say nothing. Instead, he helps Keith up from his crouched position on the floor, letting a comforting grip on his shoulder linger for a few seconds before letting go. They walk back into the dining hall together, and Keith has a second attempt at greeting everyone.

Everything is how he remembers, the team scattered around the table in the same seats as before, except Shiro now stands beside his chair waiting. The team all watches Keith cautiously, as if any sudden movement may send him retreating again. Mustering whatever dignity he has left, he makes his way to a different seat than last time, and places himself in the free seat beside Lance. He knows it’s surprising, based on the shock on everyone’s face, but he can’t bear the distance between them. He has to restrain himself from physically dragging the paladin out of his chair and holing him up in his room where he knows he can keep him protected and safe.

Keith braves a glance at Lance and Hunk, the latter with his eyes wide and unblinking while the former has frozen mid-bite with his mouth slightly ajar and filled spoon held halfway in the air. It’s almost comical, but the pain in his gut winds a little tighter as he remembers the last time he saw Lance eat before _it_ happened.

“Morning,” Keith huffs, surprised by how rough his voice is, but it seems to pull everyone out of their daze.

“Uh… morning,” Lance answers, straightening as he places his spoon back on his plate. “You look… well.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. He knows he looks awful. “Thanks,” he says anyway.

“What have you been _doing_ with the Blade of Marmora?” Hunk asks, leaning across Lance to try and get a better look at Keith’s bruises.

“Just training, and missions,” Keith answers dismissively.

“Well you’ve been missing out on the real work–” Lance begins dramatically.

“Have you been staying on top of your training?” Keith interrupts, staring Lance down intensely.

“Of course I have!” Lance cries indignantly, “I can kick your butt now!”

Keith frowns, “What about hand to hand combat? You know you’re not good at–”

“Keith,” Shiro says and it’s Keith’s turn to be interrupted. Keith knows it’s a warning and that he’s acting suspiciously. Shiro will be breathing down his neck if he doesn’t reel it in and act normal. But how can he, with Lance sitting next to him alive and breathing and well? For some reason Keith still doesn’t understand, he’s been given this opportunity to fix his mistakes, and he doesn’t know how many chances he has. How can he just let things play out normally when this might be the only time he can save Lance? He mentally braces himself for the lecture he knows is eventually coming and turns back to Lance.

“What about your bayard? Why isn’t it on you?”

“It’s breakfast!”

“The Galra aren’t going to wait for you to finish eating before they shoot you!” Keith snaps.

“And you carry your knife with you everywhere?!”

“Yes!”

Lance rolls his eyes, “it’s good to see the Blades have done wonders for your paranoia.”

Keith can’t help but growl in annoyance at Lance, who doesn’t seem to care about his personal safety.

“Um,” it was Allura’s turn to break the conversation, “you must be working extremely hard for the Blade of Marmora. It is important to take a break every now and then.” Keith knows that’s what he was originally doing by coming back to the castle, but now he won’t be able to rest until he knows Lance is safe.

“Prove it,” Keith says, ignoring Allura.

“What?” Lance’s eyes narrow, unable to resist the bait.

“Prove that you’re good enough, fight me.”

Keith knows he’s won when he sees the competitive glint in Lance’s eyes.

\-------------- 

Keith tosses a sparring rod over to Lance, who fumbles slightly over the object. It’s a long silver pipe, with glowing blue symbols snaking their way through the sheet of metal. Lance shifts his hands comfortably apart, eyeing Keith warily as he readies his fighting stance. Then, suddenly, Keith darts forward to attack. Lance blocks his direct blow quickly, but it still knocks him back. Keith advances forward, ducking under a swing Lance makes towards his head to try and recover, then hitting him squarely in his exposed stomach. Keith pauses momentarily, taken aback at the heavy grunt of pain he hears that throws him back to fighting in the hallway surrounded by Galra, with Lance’s cries calling out to him. Recovering from his shock, Keith continues to push forward, hammering Lance with blows and causing small beeps from the sparring rod to sound. _Beep beep beep beep_ – _Keith!- beep beep –Keith, alright! Stop!- beep beep-_

Lance lands on the floor with a thump and a groan. Heaving breaths, he lays back rubbing his shoulders, arms, chest, everywhere Keith ruthlessly attacked.

“Oh man…” Lance complains, “how bad was that?” Keith doesn’t respond, he doesn’t think Lance really wants an answer.

Keith picks up Lance’s discarded rod, holding it out to him. “Again.”

“What?! No way, that hurt! That was even worse than sparring with Shiro, and he has a crazy alien arm.”

Keith doesn’t have time– _Lance_ doesn’t have time, they need to keep going. Keith wipes the sweat off his brow. “Again,” he says. Lance shoots him an unhappy look, but the finality in Keith’s voice has him dragging himself up off the floor. Keith steps forward into his ready stance. Lance looks annoyed but gets himself ready as well. This time Lance darts forward first, aiming for Keith’s legs in an attempt to off-balance him. Keith parries the blow, before stepping forward and knocking Lance backwards with his shoulder. As he stumbles, Keith sweeps his legs out from behind him with a fast swipe of the sparring rod.

“Guh!” Lance cries as he hits the floor, “Ugh! I told you I’m no good at this.”

“Actually, you told me that you were even better than me now.”

Lance narrows his eyes at Keith suspiciously.

“Why does this matter to you?”

“Because,” Keith pauses as the paladin pulls himself up, “I want to make sure that everyone is able to defend themselves no matter what they come up against.” As he says this, the image of crowds of sentries surrounding Lance flares in his mind, rattling his core and making his hands shake. Gripping the sparring rod harder to try and stop the tremor, he hopes Lance hasn’t noticed.

But instead, a strange look was on Lance’s face, and his eyes had a far-away glaze to them. Keith frowns at the brunette, unsure about what was going through the other boy’s head.

“Are you ready?” He says, instead of asking about it. Training always helped clear his mind; it could probably help Lance too.

The boy in question gives a huff before readying himself.

Lance steps forward with a swing of the rod. Keith sidesteps easily and lightly taps Lance’s back with his stick.

“If you’re attacking straight-on, you need to be faster!”

Lance stumbles away, steadying himself and then swinging forward again.

“Too obvious!” Keith says as he parries another attack.

Lance lets out a heavy groan before charging at him again. This time, he hits with a barrage of quick but powerful swings. Keith manages to block them, but they force him back. Then Lance is grabbing onto his sparring rod, pulling Keith towards him and pressing his own sparring weapon against his throat.

“If this was a real sword, you’d be dead,” Lance laughs with a breath that warms Keith’s neck and curls his toes. There’s a swelling in his chest, but it’s painful, and brings up memories he’d rather forget.

“If this was a real sword, you’d have severed all the tendons in your hand,” Keith responds coolly, gesturing to Lance’s grip on the sparring rod. The taller boy makes several incomprehensible noises of protest, each one sending new waves of heat against Keith’s neck that lights a fire on his skin, and the ache in his ribs. Lance was too close, Keith needed to breathe– needed the metal combat device away from his jugular, to sit down and calm his frantic body that seemed to quiver with the memory of the fight the previous day.

Pushing Lance away, Keith takes in a few steadying breaths. He gets a look of confusion from the brunette, but he just waves off the question in the arched brow.

“Let’s try something different.”

“Like what?” Lance asks.

“Hand-to-hand combat,” Keith says that has Lance emitting a loud groan.

“Why do _I_ have to be here training with you?”

“If you’re going to fly Red, you have to fight like a red paladin, too.”

The strange expression overcomes Lance’s features again, and Keith wonders if maybe he should ask, but before he has a chance to Lance is rolling his shoulders with a huff.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.”

Lance waits for Keith to make the first move, so he does, and Keith is pleased to notice that Lance _has_ improved since they last sparred. Although, it still doesn’t take him too long to knock the brunette to the floor. This time, when Keith stands back waiting for Lance to start again, there aren’t any complaints.

They spar for a while, and at first Keith is knocking Lance back easily, but as time draws on so does the time it takes for Keith to overwhelm Lance. Keith is impressed, but he doesn’t think Lance would believe him if he said so. After a particularly long fight, Keith is thinking Lance might just be alright fighting multiple Galra without a weapon, when he manages to catch Lance’s arm and twists it behind his back. The paladin cries out in protest of the strain on his joints, being forced to kneel as Keith pushes his pinned limb. Keith immediately releases him and steps back, waiting to continue. However, Lance remains kneeling with a frustrated look.

Keith realises it’s probably hard for Lance, and wants to say something encouraging, but he’s never been particularly good at that kind of thing.

“Come on Lance! It’s not that hard!” He settles for, and it doesn’t evoke the response he’d hoped.

“Oh well _sorry_ that I just can’t do the simplest thing!” Lance yells back, his mouth turned downward at a sharp angle as he picks himself up off the floor. He seems to gain control of himself enough to throw his hand in the air and turn away. “Screw this,” he says as he leaves the room.

Keith watches him leave, too annoyed to chase after him. Why couldn’t Lance see he was just trying to help? Why couldn’t Lance see how important this training was for him?

“Argh!” He cries in frustration as he kicks the nearby sparring rod across the room. The clatter echoes, reverberating up Keith’s spine and flaring his anger even more. Why couldn’t he get Lance to understand? His fists clenched and unclenched, desperate to vent, to hit something. Keith calls out to the room, “punching bag!” He’s not really expecting it to work, and as the silence draws out he’s about to storm out of the room himself, when there’s a loud beep and a humanoid figure is raised from the floor. It’s made of tough looking fabric and is firm when Keith reaches out to touch it. He decides it’s probably the Altean equivalent of what he wants and adjusts his gloves. He feels the stress trickle from somewhere deep in his chest down his arms and through his knuckles with every punch that sends small stabs of pain with every swing. It doesn’t take long before Keith is sweating and panting, and all his mind is full of is _punch, punch, punch._

Keith loses track of time, completely engrossed in his training, when his attention is caught by a noise. It’s the sound of the door opening, and he’s hoping it’s Lance coming back to train, so he feels a little deflated when he realises it’s Shiro. He acknowledges his brother with a small nod, turning back to put the punching bag away.

“Want to spar with me?” Shiro asks, and although it gives Keith a sense of déjà vu he’s also surprised by the request.

“Nah,” he says, although he _wants_ to, but he suddenly feels hollowed out and empty and like he couldn’t lift his limbs anymore even if he tried. If Shiro was surprised by his answer, he says nothing to indicate so. Instead, the older man gestures to a bench lining the edge of the wall. They walk over and sit together.

“So what’s up with you, Keith?”

Keith sighs heavily, debating whether to tell Shiro the truth. On one hand, he might not believe him, but on the other he would be able to help him. The indecision bubbles up his throat catching on his ribs and pulling him taut. It takes a heavy hand on his shoulder to pull him back to reality.

“Um…” he begins, before drawing in a deep breath, the feeling of Shiro’s warm hand a grounding comfort to help him continue, “I’ve already experienced today, I know what’s going to happen–”

“You’ve seen the future?”

“No.” Keith grinds his teeth in frustration, struggling to convey his situation, “I’ve already lived today… _yesterday_ , I woke up this morning and yesterday is just repeating, and Lance–”

“Keith,” the warm, grounding hand on his shoulder presses firmer to reassure him and turns Keith to face Shiro. He studies Keith’s face, concerned and upset by the bruises and cuts he can see littering the boy’s face up close. The warmth spreads from Keith’s shoulder to his chest, making him lighter. Shiro was going to fix this, Shiro could always fix everything. Whenever Keith was struggling Shiro was always there, it was their dynamic: Keith does something stupid and gets himself into a mess and Shiro helps him out.

Keith holds his breath, tepidly waiting for Shiro who says, “let’s try the healing pods.” Which has Keith confused, because how would the healing pods help him? They fix physical injuries, not whatever the hell kind of situation he’s managed to get himself stuck in this time. Unless Shiro thinks maybe it’s something to do with him, maybe something to do with his Galra heritage. The thought makes something painful and sharp push against his lungs.

“Your head…” Shiro says, disrupting Keith’s thoughts. Which confuses Keith even more, until he notices where Shiro is looking. His hand flies up to his forehead, where he can feel the small lump that is still tender to touch because of the bruise. Keith catches up to reality as everything shifts into hyper-focus. He can hear the soft whirring of the mechanical room that sounds like a typhoon to his ears, filling his head with its roaring. He can feel a breeze in the air caused by the ships ventilation system, and the warm hand on his shoulder turn to ice. It freezes his chest and his veins, the ice making him heavier than he felt before. And the hand on his shoulder is getting colder and colder until it’s so cold it’s burning him. He recoils from the pain, pushing Shiro away from him.

“Keith!” Shiro cries in surprise, “Keith your injuries– Coran can help!”

But the storm in Keith’s head is too loud. He can’t hear Shiro anymore, and he holds his shoulder to try and quell the pain, to warm the frozen limb. Keith stands and staggers away, as his world tilts at a strange angle. He blinks his eyes trying to right it, but it’s been thrown off its axis in a way that may never be repaired. Shiro tries to reach out to him.

“Stop!” Keith yells, and Shiro steps back again with his hands raised to show he won’t come closer.

“Keith, let me help you, you’ve sustained a bad head injury.” He says, so sincerely it makes Keith hurt deeper.

“I don’t want your help,” Keith replies, and it falls heavily between them like a stone. Keith sways slightly as he feels the room expand, enveloped in the growing space as it stuffs its way into his mouth and nostrils, choking him. He needs to leave, to be alone and get to his room, or anywhere. He turns to the door and can hear the noise of being followed. “Stay away from me!” Keith spits to this Shiro he doesn’t know.

\--------------

Somehow, Keith feels worse by the end of the day than when he first awoke. Not only does the impending invasion of the castle fill him with dread, but the combination of his frustrations at Lance and Shiro have his lungs struggling to completely fill with air, making him lightheaded and breathless. He had caged himself in his room, not wanting to see anyone, but he was getting hungry now and knew everyone would be having dinner soon. Looking around the small room he decided whether facing everyone was worth it, or if he should wait until he knew the kitchen would be empty and throw together some bland food goo. His stomach quivered in protest at the thought of missing out on Hunk’s cooking. But he wasn’t sure if he could face Shiro again today, and what if Lance was still angry…

Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he decided to concentrate on how to tackle the problem of the castle invasion. He just needed to keep Lance away from the hall; he was wandering because he couldn’t sleep and was bored, so maybe Keith just had to find something for Lance to do. Preferably close to the control room. But what could Keith distract Lance with? If it were to distract himself, he’d just go train, but he had a bitter feeling that Lance wouldn’t want to go back and train with him again. Could he lock Lance’s room from the outside? If he couldn’t leave his room, then he couldn’t go for a walk in the middle of the night cycle. Keith moved to inspect his own door, he knew it could lock from the inside, but there seemed to be nothing to indicate that it could be locked from the other side of the door. Starting to pace, he rolled ideas over in his head, discarding everything he could come up with. His stomach eventually started to growl and, annoyed that he had managed to come up with a great big nothing for his plan to save Lance, he decided that he’d rather just face all the paladins than his darkening thoughts alone in his room.

If he had hoped that dinner would continue with happy chatter that he could quietly follow contentedly, he would be disappointed. As it were, Keith was too concerned about how Shiro would react that all he was praying for was that Shiro wouldn’t address his concerns for Keith to speak to Coran over dinner. He shifted uncomfortably under Shiro’s scrutinising stare, not daring to make eye contact with the older man across the table. The only sound in the room was cutlery scraping on plates as everyone ate silently. Keith pushed his goo around, having lost his appetite from the awkward atmosphere. When he had entered the room, there was small chatter, although Shiro had stopped talking to Allura to follow Keith with his eyes. Keith knew there was no way he was going to sit with Shiro tonight, and instead took his seat beside Lance, who immediately moved away. This had, of course, killed what little conversation was taking place and the silence had persisted. Keith felt he was in no position to break it and felt it wasn’t _his_ fault Lance had to be rude enough to make everyone feel awkward. He was only trying to do Lance a favour – trying to save his life!  

Just as Keith decides to shovel the food in his mouth, because he knows he’ll need the energy later, Lance gets up to leave. Keith hastily swallows his food as the other boy heads towards the exit that will take him back to his room. Keith follows, ignoring the several pairs of eyes he knows are following his every movement as he heads towards the door. Once in the hall, Lance spins around and glares at Keith.

“Leave me alone!” He snaps. Keith is momentarily taken aback, not expecting any sort of comment from the boy who was steadfastly ignoring him.

“I’m doing it for your own good!”

“How is following me and telling me everything I do isn’t enough for my own good, Keith?!”

Keith is instantly deflated, painful jolts of realisation prickling his chest as he finally understands what had Lance so upset. Hating himself for making Lance think that he wasn’t good enough, for making Lance think that _he_ thought he wasn’t good enough. “That’s– that’s not what I mean, when–”

“Oh then what _do_ you mean, huh?!”

“I just… thought–”

“Like I said, leave me alone.”

Keith watches the brunette’s back as he steps into his room and the door closes with a soft beep and whoosh of air.  

\--------------

Back and forth, Keith paces. He circles the hallways separating the rooms to the deep bowels of the ship, guarding things from coming up, but mostly guarding to keep something going down. Well, _someone_ going down. Keith suppresses a yawn as he completes the circuit to the rooms for what feels like the hundredth time. He was tired, but he was so full of frustration and anger that he hadn’t even been able to sit down for longer than a second, let alone lay down long enough to sleep. The long walks through the dimly lit halls wasn’t helping either, but his pacing of the hallway with the rooms had Lance sticking his head out and yelling at him to go be annoying elsewhere. He didn’t care if Lance hated him, so long as he could keep him safe.

Halting briefly to take a break, Keith leans against an open doorway. The room inside is empty, apart from a table that has been pushed up against the far wall and remnants of ancient Altean technology discarded in a heap. It makes Keith think of his house on Earth, left to the ravages of the sand and desert. It was small and dingy, but it was his and it was home. He is surprised to realise he doesn’t miss it. Somehow, this castle, this ship and these people had replaced it.

Suddenly, alarms begin blaring through the ship. Keith springs off the wall, casting a searching glace down the hall that once was shrouded in darkness and is now bright with the alarm lights, and still empty. Keith runs the rest of his circuit, adrenaline causing his hands to tremble. He knows Lance is safely in his room, knows that he’s going to stop the Galra from getting Lance, but he can’t shake the memory that remains fresh in his mind. If he thought about it, Keith would probably admit to himself he was scared. Scared of being helpless, scared of losing this strange normalcy that hung on a precarious balance. Scared of losing Lance. But he discarded these thoughts before they had a chance to seize his attention, because right now all he was concentrating on was _keep Lance safe!_

As he rounded the corner, he released a heavy breath at the sight of Lance’s closed door. He was safe, for now. Keith spun, pulling his knife free from his belt, and faced the hallway. He knew roughly how many sentries to expect, and while the thought of fighting the sheer numbers himself horrified him, if he was able to grab Lance they had an unimpeded path back towards the others. Slowly backing towards Lance’s door, not wanting to be taken unaware, Keith reached out behind him to knock. In the stillness, it occurred to Keith how strange it was that Lance was still in his room despite the sirens that continued to wail. His pulse quickened as time drew with still no response from Lance inside his room. It was quite possible that after the alarms had gone off, Lance had raced out to find the rest of the team. He was sure that he would have heard Lance run past him into the abandoned halls.

He had just started heading towards the control room, where he was sure Lance would have headed to find the rest of the team, when sounds of battle drifted up from the hallway to him. Keith’s blood stilled in his veins, as he froze to hear the noises over the sounds of the alarm.

“Shit!” He spat, sprinting down towards the noises, hoping and _hoping_ that it wasn’t what he expected to see.

Reaching the sounds of the struggles, Keith thought that if he had managed to sleep, what he saw before him would have plagued him in nightmares. Lance was, impossibly, in the hall despite Keith’s guarding. Surrounded by Galra sentries, he had managed to acquire a gun and was using it to knock them back. Keith could see, even from his distance, the streaks of blood that ran down Lance’s face and arms. His clothes were torn and covered with scorch marks from sentry bullets. In the heartbeat it had taken for Keith to take in the scene, he had pulled out his blade and charged forward. Unable to take his eyes off from Lance for long, he saw the moment Lance noticed him and locked gazes. He saw the rush of relief in Lance’s eyes and had just enough time to think about how much he liked the colour, before a gun was slammed into the side of Lance’s head knocking him out. 

\--------------

**Iteration Two**

Keith wakes up with a heave and gasp. Sucking in breaths to calm his shaking body, he might have been able to convince himself it was just a nightmare. Watching Lance get knocked out, watching Lance being pulled up by his hair, his slender neck arching as his head was pulled back by the Galra general. Watching the general, with wicked glee, drag his long knife across Lance’s throat. The memory had Keith wrenching himself out of bed and staggering to the toilet as his insides contorted and heaved, trying to push their way out of his throat. The spasms that shook his body as he emptied bile into the basin were similar to those he experienced once the team had found him as he was pushed back down the hallway from the force of the sentries. Shiro had heard him, and the team had come running to his aid. He had slumped against a wall, not caring that he was exposed to any stray bullet that might be fired his way. Keith had stayed in that position, shaking violently, until Shiro had pulled him up and they had continued down the hall to fight more sentries, but instead they found…

Keith shook his head, trying to disrupt his thoughts. He opened his eyes to try and rid himself of the image, but even open all he saw was red. Standing on shaky legs he noticed the Blade armour he was still wearing. A range of conflicting emotions surged, so intense that he had to sit back down on the floor to try and gain control of himself again. His first emotion was devastation at the thought of repeating the day _again_. He wasn’t entirely sure he could cope with the day a third time. On the other hand, he couldn’t help the relief: Lance was alive. He hated the time loop, detested it with every fibre of his body, but was also thankful that it had happened again. It felt like another chance to fix his mistakes. The thoughts sent his mind in confusing circles. Leaning his head against the wall, he let a small sob escape his lips. He wanted to get up, wanted to go find Lance, to help him, but he didn’t seem to be able to control his limbs. It was as if all his strength had gone, that he had reached his limit of his stamina already. He bangs his head against the wall in frustration, _why him?_

_Why, why, why?_

Bang, bang, bang.  

\--------------

Keith isn’t sure how long he remained curled up on his bathroom floor, but he knows it’s long enough for his arm to go cold from numbness and his legs to stiffen. Noises outside draw his attention, and he stretches out his limbs before heading towards the door.

He sticks his head out into the hall just as Lance passes. The boy spins quickly on his heel, before stomping back towards Keith and jutting an accusing finger into his chest.

“You! I _knew_ it would be you!”

“Huh?” Keith says, still reeling from having Lance in front of him and touching him and being real and alive.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me! You know what I’m talking about!”

“I… really don’t,” Keith says, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“The Galra cruiser!”

_Oh_ , Keith thinks.

“What is it doing here?!”

Keith groans, “I crashed my ship and had to steal one.”

Lance falls silent for a minute, finally taking in Keith’s dirty and injured appearance. Keith feels vaguely self-conscious when he remembers he hadn’t washed the blood and grime off his face yet, but it seems to work well in shutting Lance up.

“What?” Keith asks gruffly.

“You… don’t look well.”

“We’re fighting a war, Lance, injuries happen.”

Lance chews the inside of his mouth while thinking. His scrutiny makes Keith uncomfortable, and while he knows it’s a good opportunity to get Lance to train, he just doesn’t have the energy today. He wants to curl back up in his room and wait until he’s freed from the hell he’s gotten stuck in.

“Okay,” Lance says, seemingly made up his mind about whatever he was pondering. Keith raises an eyebrow, before yelping in surprise as Lance drags him back into his room.

“Lance! What are you doing?”  

“I’m going to help you this one time.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“Yes you do, you’re a mess.”

Keith is dragged through his room and into the bathroom, where Lance pushes him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. There’s still the sour tangy smell of bile in the room, but it’s either too subtle for Lance to notice, or he doesn’t comment on it. Keith watches the other boy busy himself at the sink rinsing a cloth, before he turns back and starts wiping Keith’s face. The temperature is a pleasant warm, but Keith still bats Lance’s hands away.

“I can do that myself!”

“No,” Lance says, holding the cloth away from Keith’s reach while using his other hand to hold Keith in place, “I’m only ever doing this once, and you look tired, so be quiet.”

To be honest, Keith was kind of enjoying the gentle treatment, but it was exactly his enjoyment that worried him. Keith wanted to become friends with Lance, he even _liked_ Lance, but he didn’t want to rely on Lance. Keith didn’t want the closeness of Lance wiping his face gently, of cleaning his wounds. He had Shiro for that – one person was enough for that kind of emotional investment. Keith painfully remembered his last conversation with Shiro, before a rough press on his bruised forehead had him hissing.

“Sorry!”

Keith threw Lance a glare, but let the boy continue. Lance occasionally stopped to rinse the cloth out under the water, dabbing off the blood and dirt from all over Keith’s face and neck. They were quiet for a while, but Keith enjoyed the silence, and the gentle hands on his face. Eventually, though, Lance let out a soft sigh.

“You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Keith replied defensively.

“Your definition of fine compared to a normal person’s isn’t exactly the same thing, Keith.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do, it’s just… We’re here for you, you know that right? You’re still part of Voltron.”

“Lance, I’m not–”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Keith,” Lance snaps, clearly annoyed by what Keith was trying to say. “You’re still a paladin, always will be.”

The comment sends pleasant tingles down Keith’s spine. He didn’t realise how worried he was that he’d become too disconnected from the rest of the team, worried that he wouldn’t be welcome back. He didn’t necessarily _want_ to leave the Blade of Marmora, at least not yet, but he didn’t like how he felt as if he was choosing between the Blades and Voltron, he wanted them both. Keith expects them to fall into another silence, but Lance continues to talk to him in that soft, gentle voice Keith wasn’t used to hearing.

“So, random question. Hypothetically, if you died today, what would be your biggest regret?”

Keith’s heart skips a few beats. Why was Lance asking him this, and now? Did he suspect something? Keith feels too hot in the small room, with Lance so close, and sweat beads at the back of his neck as strands of hair cling to him.

“Ah, umm…” He begins cautiously.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it in a weird way, I just mean… like, we’re fighting this war, and… what if we don’t make it out? Y’know?”

“Oh,” Keith says, relaxing knowing that the question was innocent. But when he thinks about it, all he can think about is Lance. His biggest recurring regret is not saving Lance, and if he were to die today, he would regret letting Lance down. But spending more time with the paladin has made him realise how little he knows about Lance, about this gentle and vulnerable side the other boy seems to hide so well. He decides that another big regret would be not having gotten to know Lance better. Keith knows he can’t say this as an answer to Lance’s question, however.

“Yeah, I guess… so? I mean, I’d probably regret not seeing the war finally end,” Keith settles for, because it’s true. Lance hums in thought over Keith’s response.

“That’s fair.”

“What… what about you?” Keith manages to choke out, because he realises he doesn’t want to know. Because in less than twenty-four hours Lance will be dying, and Keith doesn’t want to see Lance die _and_ know the half-lived moments he wanted to complete. He isn’t sure he could cope.

“My family,” Lance replies easily, without having to think, “I’d regret not being able to see them again.” Lance is looking out of focus when he says this, seeing a private memory that has Keith turning his gaze away. He knows how important family is to Lance, but he realises that he doesn’t know anything about the brunette outside of being a paladin. He knows Lance has a family he loves, but that’s about it. It troubles Keith how much he cares, how he wants to make sure he can deliver Lance safely back home. Wants to see the look of love and joy on their faces when Lance returns. A sharp hook catches on his ribs, knowing that it’s up to him to change Lance’s fate.

“I’ll make sure you see them again,” Keith says unintentionally, words tumbling out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying. When he realises, he feels himself burn with embarrassment. He hopes Lance doesn’t think it’s weird – doesn’t tell him to go away. His distress is interrupted by soft laughter from Lance that has him blinking slowly in confusion. But he isn’t laughing _at him_ , Keith realises, and so he relaxes a fraction. Then, suddenly, Lance is looking at Keith and his eyes are too intense and so Keith is squirming because he’s starting to realise just how close Lance is, even though he’s not washing his face anymore. But Lance just stares at him with the half-smile that’s all that’s left of his laughter, looking at Keith like he’s just noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

“You think you have what it takes to handle me, Mullet?” Lance says with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I’ve handled toddlers before, so yeah,” Keith teases back.

Lance puffs up indignantly at the comment, so Keith throws him a grin.

“Ugh Keith, it’s all in your teeth.”

Keith stands up and assesses himself in the mirror. Lance had cleaned his entire face so that all that was left were scratches and bruises. There’s still the blood in his mouth, which he rinses out.

“Will you be okay?” Lance asks cautiously.

“I’m fine– really, I’m just having a hard time,” Keith says, surprising himself at how forthright he was being. It scared him a little, how easily his walls could be crumbled. He realised he needed some space, needed to sort through his overwhelming thoughts and emotions. “I, ah, think I just need some time.”

Lance picks up on what Keith is trying to say. “Yeah no problem, I’m here for you. We all are, if you need us. Okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith says, and means it.

\--------------

Keith spends his day checking the castle, and then rechecking it. He heads into the control room and interrogates Coran on the castle defences, before heading down into the hangar where the damaged cruiser lays toppled on an angle from where Keith landed. He inspects it himself, but can’t find anything suspicious, and then gets Pidge to inspect it, at which she gives the all clear. Eventually, Keith examines the old abandoned hallway. He almost doesn’t at first, his body shaking in reaction to the horrors he’s faced down there. But he knows that he has to do everything possible to try and save Lance, and so he forces himself. As it turns out, the abandoned parts of the ship seemed secure, although Keith doesn’t know exactly where the Galra infiltrated from and could probably spend weeks searching every room in the castle and still not know.

He falls heavy and exhausted onto his mattress but doesn’t try to sleep. Instead, he lays staring into the dimness of his room, waiting for any subtle noise he may have missed before. But it’s quiet, and it makes Keith restless. He lays for a while, but eventually gets up to continue patrolling out in the halls. He pauses at every room and airlock, intently listening out for any sound other than the miscellaneous beeps and whirrs of the castle.

Keith halts beside a doorway, eyes scanning the mostly vacant room when he hears a shuffling further down the hall. His heart leaps into his throat and pounds heavily, but he swallows his nerves and quietly stalks towards the source of the noise, drawing his knife from its sheath at his waist. Pausing at the corner of the hallway, he listens intently to the shifting of clothes and a huff of air that someone exhales.

Keith jumps from behind the wall, knife swinging forward with a cry but stilling at their throat once he realised who it was.

“Shit!” Lance cried, shuffling backwards on the floor from where he was sitting.

“Lance?” Keith asks bewildered.

“What are you doing? Have you gone completely insane?!”

“Sorry, I… heard noises,” Keith says as he puts his weapon away.

“And you just assumed it was dangerous?!”

“You never know…”

Lance rolls his eyes, “of course you would say that.”

Keith takes a tentative step towards Lance, and once satisfied that the other boy has stopped crawling away from him, sits down beside him. Keith notices the surprised look on Lance’s face, but neither of the two say anything about it.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Lance asks, which Keith responds to with a small nod. “Me neither.”

Keith was sitting close enough to Lance to feel the brush of his shoulder every time he shifted, sending jolts straight from his arm to his chest. Lance had begun to chat about the coalition, but Keith was distracted by the growing pressure against his side as Lance leaned into him. Normally Keith would have shifted away but was content to have Lance beside him right now, safe and alive. Keith’s eyelids had started to grow heavier, and he let them slide closed as Lance continued to fill the silence with his chatter. As Keith leaned back into Lance in his sleepiness, the other boy eventually fell quiet, as they shared each other’s company.  

A loud siren pierces their silence. Keith flinches at the obtrusive noise, while Lance jumps to his feet immediately. Accompanied with the flashing lights, Keith can’t help but sink deeper into the wall, feeling like the alarm is a toll signalling the start of his suffering.

“What’s going on?” Lance cries over the sound of the alarms.

“Uh… the alarms are going off?”

Lance throws him an exasperated expression.

“Thanks, genius.”

Keith just grunts in response, too preoccupied at the tingling feeling at his fingertips. He has to physically restrain himself from reaching out to Lance, who is still standing. His heart is beating heavily in his chest, and he can feel his throat constrict tightly at the thought of Lance walking down towards his fate. For a moment Keith wants to tell him. The truth burns inside him like kindling ignited, and almost pushes itself out of his lips. However, the moment is fleeting and as Keith remembers his conversation with Shiro the words die in his mouth. For some reason, the thought of Lance not believing him, thinking something wrong with him, sends a bolt of pain through his gut that almost has him choking.

“C’mon,” Lance says to him, unaware of his internal struggles, “let’s go see what’s happening.”

Fear constricts Keith’s gut.

“N-no,” he stammers, that has Lance looking surprised.

“What? Come on, somethings up. We’ve gotta go check it out.”

Panic continues to grow in Keith’s chest, bubbling up his throat. He can taste it at the back of his mouth mixed with bile. He feels like he might be sick and clenches his fists tightly to try and quell the turmoil inside him. This is it, he realises, if he can just stop Lance here he can stop the future from happening.

Lance is still looking at him strangely but seems to give up and steps away.

“Wait!” Keith cries, “just, stay here… we’ll wait to see if it’s safe.”

Lance narrows his eyes at Keith.

“I don’t know what has you acting so weird, but the Keith I know would be out investigating already.”

Keith can’t help but pout a little. “Things change.”

“Well, _I’m_ going. You can stay here.”

“Ugh… Okay, I’m coming too then, but we have to find the rest of the team first.”

“Yeah okay, okay. Let’s go.”

Keith follows the taller boy down the corridor, the bubbling in his stomach settling slightly to be replaced by an almost giddy hope. If he stays with Lance, and takes him to the team, because Keith _knows_ where they are, then Lance will be fine!

Keith starts leading Lance towards the control room where the rest of the team are gathered. They’re about halfway down the hall when a loud noise drifts up to them from down the abandoned halls. Both boys freeze, and Keith’s blood runs cold. Keith is almost too scared to look at Lance, afraid he’ll see what he’s dreading. Somehow, he manages to look at the brunette, and his breath catches at the surprised but determined eyes he finds staring back at him.

“Let’s check it out,” Lance says, turning away from the direction of the team and instead heads towards the one place he _really_ shouldn’t go.

“Lance, no! Let’s find the team first!”

“We should check it out, everyone will catch up to us later.”

“What if it’s dangerous?” Keith begs, reaching out and grasping Lance by his arm to halt his progression.

“Danger is my middle name,” he winks in response before detaching himself from Keith’s grip, and breaking into a light jog towards the source of the noise.

Keith is _definitely_ going to vomit now. Swaying slightly as he watches Lance’s retreating figure he wonders if he can do it again, if he can stand by Lance and fight until he’s ready to collapse and faint from exhaustion, all for nothing as he inevitably watches Lance die. The figure continues to disappear down the hall, and with a colossal effort Keith manages to pull himself together and follow the paladin, feeling like Lance exists in a place that Keith will never be able to reach.

\--------------

**Iteration Eight**

Keith struggles to control the clenching of his stomach as he leans against the toilet drowsily. He’d managed to not let the nausea of waking up overwhelm him, but who knew he’d have time-travel motion sickness. He wipes at the sweat that is collecting on his forehead, concentrating on regulating his breathing. He manages to contain himself well, having spent over a week learning to do the same thing. His bones ache with a deep weariness, and he has a constant pain with every heartbeat as he thinks back to all the different ways he’s failed. The ways he’s failed himself, the team, but mostly how he continues to fail Lance. So many days have already passed, and while they all vary in slight degrees, the ending is always the same. He has been forced to watch Lance die in various ways, despite Keith’s best efforts, and he wonders if it’s futile. If it’s designed by fate, that Lance is supposed to die, and Keith isn’t supposed to save him but maybe learn to accept it himself. The thought causes the convulsions in his stomach to start again, and he drags himself over the toilet, but nothing comes up. As awful as waking up each day is, and the nausea that comes with it, Keith decides the worst part is actually after Lance is gone. When he has to find the team and watch their world crumble each time. He mostly doesn’t tell them now, leaves them to try and find Lance while he collapses from exhaustion. His greatest fear is that he will one day wake up out of the loop and all his chances were for nothing.

Pulling himself up, he assesses himself in the mirror. His usual dirty, injured profile stares back at him, but it looks hollower somehow, like he’s slowly losing pieces of himself in the process. He can see it in his darkening bags under his eyes, and the hollowing of his cheeks. Mostly, he can see it in the lifeless pupils. He wonders how no one has forcefully wrestled him into a healing pod already, as he looks like an animated corpse. Rinsing his face with a cloth makes a small improvement, and the action had his gut twisting as he was reminded of Lance dabbing his injuries, but the memory brings a warmth as well. It’s a tingly amalgamation of pain and soft pleasure that has Keith’s mind spinning. It had happened three times. The second time Lance had appeared at Keith’s door, dragging him inside the bathroom and ordering him to behave, had shocked Keith. The third time Keith had managed to just enjoy the experience. Lately though, he had been trying to find new ways to save Lance, and his changes in behaviour meant that his days were different too. In the vulnerability of the morning, he admitted to himself that he missed it.

It was unusual to see a soft Lance for Keith. He knew Lance could be gentle with how he often spoke to Hunk, or when he briefly spoke about his family. But for Keith, Lance was mostly competitive or obnoxious. Occasionally, they were good comrades, but they were never gentle and exposed. Keith was curious to see more, a deep part of him _wanting_ more of it, emboldened by the knowledge that for now every mistake he made was erased the next morning.

Moving back into his bedroom clearing his thoughts, he pulled on his black shirt and pants, discarding the Blade armour. He had been thinking of an idea for a while but had been too afraid… Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reminded himself if it didn’t work the day would reset anyway. It gave him enough confidence to open his door and walk down the hall to where he knew Pidge would be.

He found her in a room she’d commandeered for small tinkering experiments. It was full of cables, metal and electronic scraps, some of which, she’d fastened together into small machines that emitted coloured lights and beeps. Pidge was sat on a stool, hunched over a table working on a small device that fit in her palm, her eyes magnified by the lens of her glasses. She briefly glanced up at the intrusion, before whipping her head up once she registered who it was in the room.

“Whoa! Keith! I didn’t realise you were back.”

“Uh, yeah…” He says, awkwardly rubbing his neck, “I got back last night.”  

“Um, well, can I help you?”

“Yeah, I just had a question… A physics question,” he notices her small shift of excitement. “Have you ever heard of… Like is it possible… do you know anything about time loops?” Her brows furrow in confusion and she tilts her head as she thinks.

“Like, I’ve read about it, but– Why do you wanna know?”

Keith panics slightly, “I, uh… Heard Kolivan mention it?” He scratches the back of his head, trying to feign nonchalance, “it’s not important, I just was curious.”

“Well it’s hard to tell if they exist, because they’re not possible to measure, but if alternate realities exist then they _probably_ do too.”

Keith raised an eyebrow curiously and nodded for her to continue.

“One of the most popular theories on time loops is linked to the idea that there are infinite other realities and universes. Each time a person makes a decision, like choosing to add vinegar to their chips or not, that splits their current reality into two: one where they have vinegar and the other where they don’t. So, you can imagine, that if every time someone in the universe makes a decision that splits a reality, and people are making decisions every second, that means that not only are there almost an infinite number of possible realities but that those realities are _increasing infinitely_ too.”

Pidge pauses to take a breath, and Keith is grateful because he was struggling to digest what it all meant.

“With time loops, it’s the idea that there’s a problem with this splitting of realities, and that the person keeps slipping back into the original reality _before_ the split is made. Of course, this is possible in theory because time is relative, and all realities exist overlaying each other, so it’s like stepping _down_ on a ladder rather than _backwards-_ ”

“So how does someone get… stuck in a time loop?”

“Well, it’s hard to say, but there would at least need to be a huge energy source; you can’t just fall between realities, you have to puncture the membrane between realities first, and even then, that energy would have to be concentrated to such a small size…” She trails off, lost in thought.

“Um, well, that’s really interesting.” Keith begins, “so, I guess there must also be a way out of them too, right?” He’s trying his best not to sound _too_ interested, and it seems to work, because the mind-puzzle has Pidge tapping away at her chin rather than questioning why he is so curious.

“I guess it would be a matter of finding the source of that energy surge, and what event that it’s linked to… that’s causing the split of realities.”

“Oh, okay,” Keith says, backing towards the door before Pidge can question him now.

“I mean, it’s all theoretical,” Pidge says, watching him curiously. “What do–”

“Yeah, of course, thanks,” Keith says before disappearing out the door. He takes a moment to gather himself, heart beating furiously, still worried about if Pidge will be too curious about his questions. What if she tries to find him and ask him about it, what if she asks Shiro? He swallows thickly, running a distressed hand through his hair. He isn’t entirely sure the risk was worth it, but now he _knows_ he must save Lance. The thought is almost a relief, because it means that he has infinite realities in which to save Lance, but it also means that if he can’t save him, he’s stuck _infinitely_.  

\--------------

Tapping his foot, Keith frowns at the clock on the wall. He knows it’s not late enough in the castle night cycle for anything to happen, but it’s still late, and it’s getting later. The tension continues to steadily climb, and he can’t help but bounce up off his bed and pace around the room. It quells his distress briefly, but then the anxiety seizes him again and suddenly his room isn’t big enough, and he just needs to walk but he can’t in the cramped space. Heading out into the hall to burn off steam, he paces down from the entrance of his room to the edge of the lit hallway. Looking into the dimness he involuntarily shudders, trying to prepare himself and knowing he’ll be heading down that path at some point tonight. It’s so frustrating it hurts, how no matter what he tries it seems impossible to prevent Lance from heading down to his death. He has tried to persuade him, trick him, and everything else he could possibly think of except for physically restraining him. The idea was sounding more and more attractive each day, and as long as Lance doesn’t die, it’s okay if he gets angry. Keith would do almost anything to get out of the time loop already, having Lance hate him for locking him up is almost worth it. But he already misses Lance’s awful jokes from being away, the thought of never hearing them again even when he’s back at the castle between missions has him turning away from the empty hall and pacing back towards the rooms. Because as stupid as Lance can be, he is also intelligent and even-headed when it’s necessary. Keith doesn’t know exactly when he noticed it, but just remembers the constant feeling of surprise when he started agreeing with Lance, started realising Lance had _good ideas_. A concept that he would have thought an actual funny joke if someone had told him when he first met the paladin.

He stops in front of a door, belatedly realising just whose door his feet ending up taking him to. Debating whether to walk away, or knock, he churns the decision over in his head. Eventually, he decides that even if he walks away, he’s not going to get any peace of mind. Sucking in a breath, he reaches out and taps on the metal plate with his knuckles. He can hear muffled noises of someone moving around inside, the noises getting closer. Before he has time to run away the door opens with a gentle whoosh and he’s staring at Lance, who is staring back and clearly surprised. Keith realises that he hasn’t seen Lance yet in this ‘reality’. It’s strange, he’s become so familiar with the day that it’s getting harder to keep track of what events occurred on past days and what’s happened currently. Lance is still staring at him, and Keith shifts uncomfortably. He should leave, but he knows what’s coming soon, and he just wants Lance close to him. It’s incredibly painful, standing before Lance and feeling helpless and alone.

“Um, hi.” Lance says, but Keith is still struggling with his emotions.

“Hey,” is all he manages.

“What are you… Um, can I help you?”  

Which is a good question under the circumstances, however it’s Keith who wants to help Lance and so the lines between his furrowed brows deepen in his frustration. He isn’t sure what to say– what could he say? ‘I can’t stop thinking about you and how you’re a great paladin and don’t deserve to die, it should be me instead’? Or maybe even just simply: ‘I’ve watched you die so many times that I’m worried that I’ve lost too much of myself in the process as well’. But Lance is here and whole, so why can’t Keith be the same? His thoughts are too complicated for him to process, so he settles for,

“I couldn’t sleep,” with a shrug.

Lance nods in understanding. “Yeah, actually me neither.” Which of course Keith already knows, but he didn’t know Lance would admit it in this reality, and he hasn’t kicked Keith out yet either. Keith waits for Lance to say something else, not wanting to invite himself into the other boy’s room, but not wanting to invite Lance to wander the halls, because that was definitely not a good idea. “Want some company?” Lance eventually asks, stepping back and gesturing to his room. Normally the quiet setting would be a little too intimate for Keith, but this is Lance, and it is late, and Keith just needs to spend time with him before anything happens, so he steps inside.

The brunette’s room is a bit of a mess, with pillows and clothes scattered across the floor. He has a TV messily rigged up to an old earth console, with controllers piled next to the entertainment unit. There’s a few dirty plates, and the smell of stale food goo, but otherwise the room is pleasant. Underneath the mess, there’s something distinctly Lance about it. Not only the familiar smell, but also in the way the room is arranged: the heaped clothes in the corner and blankets that have been roughly pulled up on the mattress, so the bed is sort-of made up. Keith wishes he was stuck in a time freeze, so that this moment never ends. This limbo between not having enough time to stop anything, but it being too early for anything to happen, is always painful for him. But being here with Lance, sitting in his room together with no pretences and just for the sake of having each other for company, makes warmth bloom in Keith’s chest.

With Lance beside him, chattering away, Keith is finally calm. Unfortunately, the most pleasant moments are the shortest, and he supposes Pidge did point out time was relative, so maybe that’s why. Because what feels like a couple of minutes had somehow turned into a couple of hours, as the alarm begins to wail. Keith feels each whoop of the siren as a painful stab in the chest. Lance is staring at him in surprise, but Keith drops eye contact because it reminds him of the reality he must now face again. Instead, he looks at his lap, and notices for the first time how close he and Lance are. They’re sitting face-to-face on the mattress, leaning towards each other so their knees are almost touching. Keith longs to close the gap between them, to just have confirmation that Lance is physically _there_. His fingers twitch at the thought of reaching out to the other boy, of grasping his face in his hands and just holding and not letting go, so he’d never have to remind himself that this Lance was real because he’d know.  

But before he can knock his leg into the other boy’s, or reach out to him, Lance is standing and heading towards the door.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Lance–”

“We’ve got to go see what’s happening.”

“Lance–”

“C’mon–”

“Lance!”

He finally notices Keith again, turning to face him in surprise. Keith tries to stand, but his body is trembling so badly that he has to stay seated.

“Whoa, man are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Keith shakes his head, because he can’t watch Lance leave again. He’s come back and is gripping Keith by his shoulders, looking at him intently and trying to determine what’s upsetting him.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, afraid of the dismissal he knows is coming.

“It’s okay, Keith, I’m here and I’m not leaving you.” The words send waves of warmth that soothe his broken chest. Keith tries to control his breathing, because suddenly he realises that maybe Lance can listen to him, if Keith can properly convey to him how important it is to him.

Lance’s head whips back to the door when a loud crunching noise echoes up through the hall and reaches them. His eyes darts between Keith and the door, looking more concerned with each glance.

“Keith, I don’t know what’s out there, it could be dangerous.”  Keith nods his head, he knows it _is_ dangerous. “Can you walk?” But they both know Keith is in no state to move anywhere fast. “I can’t let anything come that might injure you.” And Keith finally realises what Lance is talking about, and all he can think in his head is _no no no no no_. “I’m going to go deal with whatever it is, and then I’ll come back for you.” But Keith is shaking his head furiously now.

“No Lance!”

“It’s fine! I’ll be right back, you won’t even have time to miss me,” Lance teases with a wink as he starts heading towards the door again. Then, with the gentle whoosh of the electronic door, he’s gone. And for the first time, Keith is too broken and empty to try and follow.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who read and commented on my first chapter! It was so wonderful hearing what people thought :-)  
> This chapter is a bit long by what I was intending to do, so I hope it wasn't too long for people to read.


	3. Teach Me

The pain comes with the awakening of Keith’s consciousness like a wave: a gradual build and then surging at once. There’s the physical nausea, the rolling of his stomach as his body adjusts to its environment. But worse are the memories in his head, the feeling of helplessness and his betrayal that truly makes his insides rot. Turning onto his side, Keith pulls his knees to his chest, gripping them tightly to try and keep himself together. He feels as though every fibre of his being, every quivering atom, is unthreading. Pain ripples through him and he curls deeper into himself, but he can’t hide from his own thoughts. He betrayed Lance and left him to face the Galra alone. Keith _knew_ what would happen, but still couldn’t find the strength to move. Whimpering quietly, he buries his face in his knees, trying to find the strength to move and get up and try and make a difference. But Keith realises he can’t, some integral part of him he never realised was there had gone, and without it he didn’t have the strength to face the day again. How many times had it been? Eight? Nine? It could have been a hundred for the twisted, wrung out feeling he was experiencing. Pulling himself upright, he stared numbly at his legs still covered by his blanket. He knew he needed to get up and do something, but the thought of facing Lance had his throat clenching. Lance, who put himself before Keith. Who went out into danger alone to protect Keith. For a horrified moment Keith wonders if it’s him, if he hadn’t returned to the castle would fate have let Lance live? But if he hadn’t returned Keith knows he would be adrift in a broken pod, waiting to see if thirst, asphyxiation or the cold caught him first.

Swinging his legs out of bed, Keith manages to drag himself to the bathroom. He avoids looking at himself as much as possible, able to clean his face from memory alone now. The assortment of small bruises and scratches have become so familiar to him, he almost can’t imagine himself without them. He’s ready faster than he would have liked, wanting to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Keith isn’t ready to see anyone, isn’t ready to face the day again, but he knows that staying in his room would drive him mad.

He faces off against the door, the final barrier between him and his awful reality. He starts counting down from ten, then does it again when he reaches zero and still can’t move. When he’s almost finished counting for the fourth time he finally notices the echo of footsteps down the hall. Keith’s heart seizes from the realisation of who those footsteps belong to. It must be late in the morning for _those_ feet to walk down the corridor. He presses his palms against the door, the temptation to reach out and touch Lance quelled by the sickness in his gut from the memory of the day before. The footsteps reach his door and stop, and a bolt of electricity shoots up Keith’s spine. Pressing his forehead against the door he closes his eyes and he swears he can hear the other boys breathing, although he knows it’s impossible through the thick metal.

Knowing Lance is so close, but still out of Keith’s reach, has him sucking in a shaky breath, trying his best to mask any sound Lance might hear. But he can’t quiet the stampede of thoughts that fill his head. What was Lance doing quietly outside his door? Was he going to knock? Did Keith want him to? What was Keith going to do if he _did_ knock? Keith’s stomach does a complicated flip at the thought, desperately wanting to avoid Lance but also aching to see him. The temptation to open the door, pull the Paladin into his arms and just breathe him in, to remind himself that Lance was real, was so strong it sent a shudder down Keith’s spine. Keith permits himself do to the only thing he is confident his body won’t betray him with: he waits, struggling to breathe, until the sound of footsteps leaving finally drift through his door. Keith stays pressed against the metal for a while after the footsteps completely fade, before he is finally able to convince himself to move.

Keith wanders, again, and is close to pulling his hair out in frustration. The need to do _something_ but not knowing what was directly at odds with his body’s aches that demanded him to curl up and rest. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but laying down caused the pain from guilt to bloom in his chest. Keith was stuck in a limbo between being productive and resting, and apparently the only solution that satisfied both problems was to just walk. Who knows, maybe he’d stumble upon the open door that the Galra managed to slip through and save the day by locking it. Fate was cruel enough to him to make the key to his suffering so simple, he thought bitterly.

The sound of muttered conversation drifts up from an open doorway down a hall Keith passes. He pauses briefly, trying to discern who the voices belong to. He refuses to acknowledge the sick feeling that arises from knowing that he was mostly trying to determine if any voice was Lance’s. He still wasn’t ready, didn’t know how to face him yet. It was stupid and selfish, but his emotions were straining so bad he felt it might break him, and he needed to just pretend the situation didn’t exist. He’s confident that Lance isn’t in the room, because he’d recognise his voice anywhere, had replayed it enough in his head and heard it enough in his dreams– something in Keith’s chest tightens suddenly and he slams the lid shut on that line of thought.

“Keith?”

Keith looks around the room he’d unconsciously walked into while grappling with his thoughts, meeting the stunned eyes of Hunk before slowly shifting to acknowledge Pidge. From their frozen positions, they seem to have been interrupted during one of their many tinkering experiments to enhance features of the castle. Pidge had her laptop propped up on her knees, fingers still hovering over keys as if she had been typing when Keith walked in. While Hunk holds a round metal object covered in miscellaneous grooves and indents, a cover pried off and cords connecting the strange device to the computer.   

“Um, hi,” Keith mutters awkwardly, suddenly self-conscious that he didn’t have a reason to bother them. The surprise on their faces fade, as Pidge looks back down at the screen and begins typing while Hunk plugs another wire into the device and presses a button on the side.

“Hey man, we didn’t realise you were back,” Hunk says, while Pidge continues to type furiously on the computer.

“Yeah, I thought you had some kind of intel mission you were working on?” The green Paladin adds. Keith cringes at the memory of how _that_ mission went. It was how he ended up here in the first place, after all.

“It’s finished.”

“Oh, and it like, went well I guess?”

Keith grinds his teeth in thought. “We… got the information we wanted.” Hunk nods in response before his attention is captured by the orb again, that had started to emit irregular beeps. Keith scuffed his feet, wondering if he should slip away, or did he need to say something? He was never the best at social cues, and often ended up making the wrong decisions under pressure.

“So how long do you think you’ll be around?” Hunk asks, interrupting Keith’s thoughts about how he was going to slip away without a word. It disorientates Keith for a moment, before the bitter taste fills his mouth once again.

“For as long as I need,” he mutters, more to himself than Hunk.

Hunk watches him quizzically for a moment, before shaking his head. “Okay, well anyway– what’s a sound you miss from Earth?”

“I– ah… what?”

“We found this device that can generate wavelengths, probably as some kind of communication device, but it can also emit preloaded information and so we’re trying to upload our own data,” Pidge supplies.

“Basically, it’s a portable speaker!” Hunk exclaims. “We wanted to put music on it, but we don’t actually have anything, and the music Coran gave us was–” Pidge and Hunk shared a knowing glance before shuddering in pain. “But we do have recordings collected from when we visit planets, people talking, storms, rain… we’re currently loading the sound of ocean for Lance. He said he misses it.” The unexpected mention of Lance has Keith’s stomach knotting. The two Paladins raise an eyebrow at the choking noises Keith makes.

“Ah– um, w-well that’s no surprise.”

Pidge gives him another suspicious look, but it’s more curious now.

“What?” Keith huffs.

“Have you seen Lance yet?” Keith shakes his head, and Pidge shrugs, “I think he was looking for you.”

“If he’s complaining about the cruiser _again_ , I swear–” 

“I thought you hadn’t seen him yet?” Pidge interrupts with a smirk.

Keith feels himself burn with embarrassment. Of course he knew what Lance was after even if he hadn’t seen him yet, but no one else knew that.

“I haven’t!” Keith snaps in defence. Pidge frowns at his tone, opening her mouth to retort back, before Hunk manages to step in.

“Yep okay! No worries! Everything is peachy! If you haven’t seen Lance yet you should go find him, he did want to speak to you, and maybe he mentioned something about a cruiser?”

Keith makes a noncommittal noise, he knows he should talk to Lance. Knows that talking to Lance should be his number one priority, but he just doesn’t think he has the strength in himself anymore.

\--------------

Watching the stars had always given Keith a kind of anxiety, looking out every night and wondering amongst which ones he had lost Shiro. Looking at them now, the familiar twisting of his insides occurs for a different reason. Which speck of light out there is the Galra ship that he will now lose Lance to? He shifts uncomfortably on the floor, the soft noises echoing through the quiet of the viewing deck Keith is in, propped up against one of the beams that line the semi-circular room.

Although he tries his best to distract his thoughts, he can’t help but think about Lance as his gaze slides over the many constellations around him. Would just telling Lance that if he goes down the hall he will die be enough to stop him? Would Lance even believe him? A cold drips it’s way down Keith’s spine causing him to shudder, thinking about how if Shiro wouldn’t believe him then surely no one else would. And why would they? It sounded crazy even to himself. Keith doubted he’d believe Lance if the other boy told him he knew what was going to happen that day.

It was an awful and isolating feeling, and Keith felt like he was being punished in some way. Punished for not being good enough, or for a mistake he made somewhere along the line. He wanted to reach out desperately, grab someone and scream at them to help him fix this… whatever ‘this’ was.

The sound of the metallic doors sliding open cuts through the ringing in Keith’s head. Normally the disruption would be welcome, but Keith just needs to be alone to his thoughts. He knows he’s covered well by pillar he leans against and waits for them to pass through into the adjacent room. No one would be looking for him, most of the castle occupants didn’t even know he was back yet, and even if they did they would likely move past the room once they saw the couches were empty. Keith was relieved he hadn’t decided to sit in an obvious place. He wanted to be left alone, likely to just stay in his place until night and even then, he possibly might not move once the sirens started blaring. However, after a brief hesitation, the footsteps make their way towards Keith. He turns his head slightly to see who it is, expecting Shiro and already preparing an excuse to make the older brother leave. His chest seizes up once he realises it’s Lance walking towards him, and he scoots further behind the beam to hide himself. He knew it was futile, knew that Lance had already spotted him because they’d made eye contact in the seconds that Keith had turned around. Keith’s pulse was pounding in his head, and his vision blurred in his panic. What was he going to say to Lance? How could he talk to him without even apologising? He wasn’t ready! Keith had specifically spent the day in places he knew Lance wouldn’t be in, trying to prepare himself to face the Paladin while simultaneously trying not to think about him at all.

It takes all of ten seconds for Lance to cross the room and for Keith to break down, wishing he could disappear or sink into the floor. His hands were shaking, and he shoves them into the pockets of his jeans as Lance stands by him and assesses him quietly. Keith remains unmoving and silent, not even sure if he could get up, while Lance doesn’t sit down but crosses his arms firmly across his chest.

“I heard you were back,” Lance says, and Keith shrugs in response. His jaw was clamped shut and he wasn’t confident he could form words arounds the lump in his throat even if he tried. “I’ve been looking for you…” Lance prompts, trying to elicit a response that Keith still refuses to give. Keith is staring pointedly out the window, but not really seeing anything. However, he is still able to notice the other boy running a hand over his hair in frustration. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not!” Keith defends, but both boys know that it’s a lie.

Lance’s frown visibly deepens, “what is your problem?!”

“What is _your_ problem?!”

“You! I hear you’re back from Hunk and haven’t seen you, then I can’t find you, and when I do you’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?” Keith asks, the challenge lighting up his eyes, daring Lance to insult him in his current mood.

“You’re being a brat, Keith. What are you even doing here? Unlike you to not be throwing knives into a wall.”

Keith feels his frustration bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. “Well why don’t you come train with me?” He spits without thinking, because that’s where he will probably go now anyway, needing to vent his emotions.

“Fine,” Lance says, but his voice doesn’t have a trace of venom anymore and it take’s Keith a while to process the boy’s response.

“You… what?”

“Yes, I’ll go train with you,” Lance grunts, obviously uncomfortable at having to repeat himself.

“Ah… oh, okay.”

Lance nods his head, with an expression that makes it clear to Keith to stop asking for clarification, as the Paladin steps aside to let Keith lead the way.

They make their way to the training deck, the sensor lights blinking on and reflecting off the white polished surfaces, causing Keith to squint as his eyes adjust. Lance brushes past him, pulling two sparring knives off the rack. Keith takes the one offered to him, and they separate, readying themselves. The familiarity of the motions, of sparring with Lance, settles Keith somewhat. He doesn’t need to speak to the Paladin, and he can concentrate on fighting rather than let his mind wander onto dangerous topics. The weight of the Altean knife is a comfort in his hand, heavy from its unusual long shape and thick curved edges designed to bruise rather than cut. Keith wonders about what he did wrong the previous times he’d sparred with Lance, knowing they had ended with the brunette storming out. Maybe Keith had been too harsh? Should he have been more encouraging? It was hard for him to determine the exact point things had gone wrong. Keith always picked up fighting quickly, and a short explanation of what to do had always been sufficient for him to learn. He had already learnt the hard way this wasn’t the same for Lance. He knows he had made Lance feel useless, and it churned his insides to think about it again. Guilt and grief began to surge, and Keith had barely enough time to register Lance swinging forward to attack, forcing him to dodge and step back rather than parry and counter-attack.

“Don’t go spacing out on me,” Lance teases.

Keith adjusts his grip and thrusts forward aiming for Lance’s now exposed gut. The Paladin manages to swing his own blade down and block the attack, but still stumbles causing Keith to smirk.

“Don’t go making this too easy for me.”

Lance darts forward again, swinging his arm wide to hit Keith’s side. Keith easily stops the attack by bringing his own knife down into the inside of Lance’s elbow.

“Ow!” Lance cries, rubbing his arm as Keith waits for him to recover.

“Don’t swing so wide with a short weapon, it’s easier to block, attack from closer to your body.” Keith notices Lance frown a bit before nodding at the statement, and his heart clenches because he hopes he’s not putting Lance down again. “Try it, come at me.”

This time, when Lance attacks he does so with a direct thrust towards Keith’s chest. Keith manages to block it by directing the attack away from his body with his own knife.

“That’s better,” Keith pants, trying to talk while going in for his own attack, “but put your weight behind it, it’s harder to deflect that way.” This time, Lance seems to accept the advice and tries a few more powerful attacks aimed towards Keith. All of them force Keith to block using enough strength and effort to leave him sweating. They both pause to catch their breath, and Keith feels compelled to say something to Lance to reinforce in the Paladins mind that he was good, and that he could fight well. “You’re doing great,” he says, and immediately regrets it. Lance’s eyes widen as they meet Keith’s and his mouth drops open, Keith feels himself burning and immediately stumbles to correct the mistake. “U-uhm, ah– you’re good with your shooting, I’m impressed that you can fight so well too…”

“I must have died, Keith giving _me_ a compliment?” Lance laughs, and despite his initial cringe at the accuracy of the remark, Keith can feel the tension easing from his body. 

Keith rolls his eyes, “don’t worry it won’t happen again.” But he’s glad he said something now, seeing the way Lance happily steps back into his starting stance and remembering the disappointed look Keith was used to from the previous iterations. This time Keith charges in first, where Lance blocks his attack easily. They continue to spar, and Keith is sure it must be the adrenaline because it had been so long since he felt so light and so _happy_. Lance swings his knife wide again, and Keith blocks the attack with his free arm, using the opening to tap Lance’s neck playfully with his sparring knife.

“If this were a real knife, you’d be dead,” he jokes, mocking Lance with the Paladin’s own words. Although Keith knew it wasn’t something _this_ Lance had said, it still made him laugh knowing that he had used the other boy’s words against him.

“You’re making jokes now?” Lance replies, batting away the knife at his neck. Keith catches the other boy’s eyes, and the amusement in them causes something to flutter in his rib cage. He knows he should say something, rather than just stare stupidly, and Lance quirks an eyebrow from his lack of response.

A loud bang has the boys grabbing at their blunt knives, Keith’s eyes wide and alert. A knife from the rack had slipped and fell, which calmed Keith’s spiking heartrate somewhat. However, the disruption reminded him of the task at hand and that he should be using his time productively, like training Lance rather than laughing with Lance. As much as Keith wanted to continue, and to have fun with the Paladin that was unusual for them both, this wasn’t an ordinary day and they weren’t ordinary people. Lance was important for the sake of the universe, he was a necessary member of a team that were freeing millions of people from torture and slavery. For some reason beyond his knowledge, Keith was responsible for ensuring that Lance continued to fight in Voltron, and so he couldn’t waste time mucking around.

“Let’s start again,” Keith says brushing past Lance, stomach twisting at the soft contact as he passed the other boy, confusing him. He stared pointedly at Lance’s chest, unable to meet his eyes and feeling himself burning at the thought of it. What was wrong with him? But Lance had crossed his arms, and Keith could just discern the strange expression Lance had through the edges of his vision.

“Um, Kei–”

Sirens blared over the speaker system, startling the boys for a second time. Keith’s insides lurch, like he’d just fallen and left his stomach behind.

“W-what’s going on?” Lance asks, looking around the room. Now, suddenly, Keith can’t look anywhere _but_ at Lance, knowing what this means. He was so close, they had been training so well… could it have been enough? Keith couldn’t convince himself it was. The Paladin was so close, he just wanted to stop him from leaving, to hold him in place…

Lance had already started to leave towards the door before Keith could reach him. With a shaky inhale, Keith followed the Paladin out and into the hall.

Like always, Lance makes a direct line for the Galra as if his curiosity is a magnet for danger. As they approach the final hall Keith reaches out to grab Lance by the arm.

“Keith, what-” he begins with concern, before the sound of commands being issued draws Lance’s attention again. Lance shrugs his hold off, rushing forward to surprise the Galra with the first attack. Keith follows the other boy, knowing that if he didn’t help again he wouldn’t be able to survive another day of the guilt. Keith wonders if maybe he fought better, Lance could be saved. The thought is a shocking bolt through his heart. He had always been so sure of his abilities, but surely if he was better then he could help Lance more? If he was good enough he could just take on all the Galra himself.

Keith stumbles mid fight when he thinks about the difficulty of fighting the Galra alone, realising that he abandoned yesterdays Lance to do just that. Keith’s feelings blacken in self-loathing, but he has to concentrate on the battle surrounding him. His stumble created an opening that forced him to dodge a sentry, but before he could regain his footing more attacks were aimed his way. He staggers backwards away from the advancing sentries, just as something heavy and hard slams into the back of his head lurching him forward again.

Keith realises he blacked out when he opens his eyes on the floor, but it could only have been for a moment as the sentries were still surrounding him. Rolling onto his side, he drags himself to stand and face his attacker, his head protesting in pain. His world sways around him in waves and Keith blinks angrily to try and focus on the fight. The general is advancing on him slowly, and Keith tries to step towards him to attack but trips in his disorientation, causing the Galra’s grin to deepen. Keith glares as he tries to stand again, but a kick catches him in the shoulder knocking him backwards with a cry.

A sudden feeling of helplessness overwhelms him, and panic threatens to tear his throat open. He grips a ledge on the wall he had been knocked towards, using it as support to keep himself steady as he forces himself to stand again. The general was walking towards him, obviously savouring the moment, and Keith knew he was too dizzy to defend himself. He just needed a moment to catch his breath, long enough to steady the pounding in his skull–

Suddenly, Lance is in front of Keith, pushing him away. Keith tries to stop Lance, to tell him no and to run. But his words choke in his throat and he has to watch as hands reach out to grab Lance…

_Let it be me_ , Keith wants to shout.   

\--------------

**Iteration Ten**

Keith had been functioning on autopilot, had suspected that maybe he’d left too much of himself in the previous iterations and didn’t have enough remaining. The pain and nausea he experienced each morning had been replaced by an aching in his chest, an intense burning sensation that started from his left side and pulsed throughout his body. He had awoken to find a new bruise staining his chest, faded to a sickly yellow as though it had been there a while. It reinforced in his mind that he was slowly disintegrating as each day repeated, and each time he lost Lance. He always knew that losing a friend would be one of the most painful experiences in his life, had known it the moment Lance had died in front of him. He didn’t realise that each time he relived the experience it would worsen. Keith had thought he had known Lance well, they had trained and fought alongside each other in Voltron, had shared the mental connection each time Voltron was formed. But Keith was starting to realise he didn’t truly understand Lance. His developing appreciation for the brunette seemed to only worsen the anguish of his constant failure. Lance had become someone who he truly cared about, maybe even more so than Shiro now.

Keith felt claustrophobic and trapped in the castle and had gone to the only place that offered any sort of sanctuary from the dark familiarity of the day. He shifted he feet uncomfortably, finding himself standing before Red but feeling stupid. He wasn’t a Paladin anymore, he shouldn’t be here. But her presence still pushed against his mind, and somehow, he knew she would still understand him.

“I-I keep failing him,” he said quietly, afraid of the silence in the room, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this for.” He paused, feeling immensely stupid talking aloud in the room to a robot that he had no more business with anymore. He had almost convinced himself to leave when he felt it: a small pressure on the edges of his consciousness. It was a familiar and warm feeling and it was the closest thing he had ever experienced to a feeling of security and home since Shiro’s disappearance. He turned back towards Red, not wanting to believe that she would still reach out to him, even after he’d left. But she was still there, a reassuring presence in his mind.

“It-it hurts…” he whimpered, “at first, it was bad, but now… things… they’re different.” He crouched on the floor, unsure if his shaking legs could continue to support him. The burning at the back of his throat started behind his eyes, and he swallowed hard trying to control his emotions. Internalising was hard when his thoughts were full of Lance, but he didn’t need to talk about Lance, he realised he just needed to talk.

“The Blade is different,” he said instead, “different from being a Paladin. I’ve improved so much. The training is more rigorous and it’s a different kind of approach to the war: the hiding and secrecy. It’s kind of exciting, sometimes, but it’s also lonely. I thought I’d like it, it’s what I’m used to. I guess… something must have changed without me realising it.” And somehow Keith just keeps talking. Talking with the constant reassurance from Red that she was there and was listening, and he wasn’t afraid to tell her about the time loop because she wasn’t Shiro or any of the Paladins.

“Please help him,” Keith asked quietly, “please help Lance, because I don’t think I can.”

\--------------

There were times when Keith was one hundred percent certain in his course of action. This didn’t necessarily mean those were good choices, and often led to consequences like being kicked out of the Garrison, but the point was Keith often knew what he wanted and his approach to get it without second guessing himself. Being a Paladin had started to challenge that, and when he started doubting himself too much he left. Back in the castle, repeating each day, had Keith constantly in a state of self-doubt. He had given up already, but Red’s reassurance had helped reignite a small flicker of hope. Keith had trained well with Lance the previous day, and probably could train with him better. He just needed to follow his steps as exactly as possible and maybe he’d be able to prepare Lance for the battle that night. This was how he had ended up purposefully avoiding Lance during the day again and was now waiting at the same place in the viewing deck after making an appearance in front of Hunk and Pidge.

Waiting had him fidgeting and impatient. It was easier previously when Keith had wanted to be alone to his thoughts, now he was only there to hopefully see Lance. Keith had learnt from experience that finding Lance and demanding him to go train didn’t work well. For some reason, Lance seeking him out had the Paladin more willing to train. Despite the time crawling by at an agonising pace eventually Keith hears the doors open and someone walk in. 

“I heard you were back,” Lance says.

“Yeah,” Keith says shuffling over and gesturing for Lance to sit beside him. He wants to drag the brunette towards the training room immediately, but suspects that won’t work. He also doesn’t want to argue again like last time. Keith knows from experience that he will have to wait for the opportunity to arise to invite Lance to train. The boy in question crosses his arms and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“I’ve been avoiding everyone,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. Lance was still watching him suspiciously, but eventually sits down. 

“Okay, uh, did you wanna talk about it?”

“I’m fine.” Keith chews his lip, how can he direct the conversation towards training?

“O-oh yeah, of course, I mean I guess you’ve got Shiro to talk to anyway.”

Lance’s comment disorientates Keith for a moment, because he knows why Lance would assume that, but Keith had also been avoiding Shiro the past few days.

“I… ah… haven’t actually told him I’m back yet.”

“Oh?”

Keith shrugs, he’d been so caught up with being around Lance lately he hadn’t had much time to even think about Shiro. “He just… doesn’t always understand.”

Lance leans his head on his knees. “I think I get what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Yeah… you know, nothing is ever as good as what you do.”

“That’s not true,” Keith says with a frown.

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t notice it! You’re the perfect brother.”

“That’s definitely not true.”

“It is! It’s always ‘no Lance you’re wrong’, ‘Lance just do what Keith would do’, ‘Lance why can’t you just be more like Keith?’, ugh.”

A bitter taste fills Keith’s mouth. “I-I didn’t realise.”

Lance shrugs. “It’s not your fault, it’s just like I know I’m not good enough but it’s hard to be constantly reminded.”

Hot anger flares inside Keith, and he grabs Lance’s face in his hands forcing the Paladin to look at him. “That is _not_ true, Lance, we’re good at different things – you’re the sharpshooter and I’m not,” he says trying to lift his spirits. It works, if the small smile Lance gives him is anything to go by. Keith swallows cautiously, realising this might be his chance. “I mean, we should be helping each other… why don’t we go train now?” Lance seems a bit surprised, but shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

Keith lets Lance lead the way to the training deck, where he grabbed two sparring knives off the rack. They take their positions on the mat, and Keith anticipates Lance’s first attack because he’s already experienced this exact training. Keith dodges easily and goes for the counter attack. Lance parries him with his own knife, stepping back to give himself more room.

“You have to be offensive, if you never try to attack you’ll never get the upper hand on your opponent.”

Lance nods in recognition just before Keith goes in to attack again.

“Knock my arm away and then immediately attack at the opening you create!” As Keith says this, Lance follows his instructions, and Keith feels the sharp pang of the blunt object hitting his side and sending him falling sideways.

“Ow, okay you didn’t need to do it _that_ forcefully,” Keith complains but Lance is too busy smirking to himself.

“Wow I hope this room has cameras because I’d love to get a hold of that footage!”

“Yeah, okay whatever, let’s see if you can do it again before you get too cocky.”

Lance swipes towards Keith, who grabs Lance’s arm and redirects the attack before pulling the other boy close, knife pressed into his stomach. Lance stills once he realises Keith has caught him, and they’re both so close now that Keith leans forward enough to bump Lance’s nose with his own before he whispers, “what was that about footage again?” Which has Lance hastily pushing Keith away from him, burning red.

“You got lucky that time.”

“Sure.”

Lance swings in to attack Keith again, who raises his knife in defence, but the blow hits at an angle Keith wasn’t anticipating and the knife flies out of his hand. Lance shoots him a smirk, before lunging forward now Keith was disarmed. Keith dodges the knife and blocks Lance’s arm, taking the opportunity to wrap his arm around Lance’s and push on his shoulder. The sudden pressure on Lance’s elbow joint has him crying out in surprise and dropping his own knife.

“Ow! I yield! Ow! Okay!” Keith immediately let’s go and steps back, he’s worried that maybe he went too far and upset Lance now, but when the Paladin looks at him his eyes are alight with excitement. “Woah show me how you did that!”

Keith can’t help but laugh at his response and explains to Lance how to apply different types of arm bars. The prolonged contact with someone else would normally make Keith uncomfortable, but he’d gotten so used to Lance’s presence by now he was surprised by how natural it felt to touch his arm, and to be touched. They switch to hand-to-hand combat so Lance can practise, but Keith wasn’t going easy on him which resulted in a lot of fumbling that had Keith’s face burning from the other boy constantly wrapping his arm around him.

Lance let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t think I’ll actually be able to use that ever.”

“That’s because you’re meant to distract me first, I’m expecting it,” Keith laughs.

“Then I’ll wait until you’re least expecting it,” Lance goads, reaching around to pin Keith’s arm behind his back. Keith smirks at the comment, and twists around to explain to Lance he’d still struggle because of Keith’s lightning fast reflexes, when he accidently turns right into Lance. Keith feels Lance’s playful grip on his arm tighten as his eyes widen in surprise of how close the two’s faces are. Neither of the two make any attempt to move, and Keith can feel his heart leap to his throat as his mind goes completely blank. His eyes dart to the curve of Lance’s mouth, tracing it’s shape and thinking how he would be quite happy for time to freeze and leave him wrapped up with Lance forever.

A loud bang has the two immediately springing apart. It takes a moment longer then Keith would have liked to recover himself enough to realise a knife from the rack had fallen. As soon as he realises what it is, his heart sinks. Reaching down to collect their discarded sparring knives Keith heads towards the rack to put them away.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Packing up.”

“What? Why? Are we done?” Lance’s confused and dejected look causes Keith’s heart to twist, but he can’t just tell Lance in less than a minute the castle alarm system will start ringing. He also can’t say that in less than an hour Lance will likely be dead, and Keith just needs to get it over with, so he can hurry up and start the day again.

Keith sighs, ready to give an excuse, but before he can get a word out the sirens and alarm lights are triggered. Keith notices the surprised look Lance shoots him, and how it changes into something more complicated Keith can’t decipher.

“How did–”

“Let’s go see what’s happening,” Keith interrupts, just wanting to get it over with. However, despite the looming battle he knows Lance will lose, he can’t shake the giddy feeling and the tingling of his skin. It’s frustrating, because he doesn’t want the experience to be worse than it already is, but he was digging himself in deeper and he knew it was only going to make his suffering worse. They head into the hallway, and Keith starts heading towards the control room when an echo of a crash catches Lance’s attention.

“Let’s check it out!”

“Lance…” but the Paladin is already off, and Keith steadies his breathing before he can draw up the courage to follow Lance down the passage. He catches up to the brunette quickly, and it doesn’t take long for them to reach the hall where Galra sentries have already filled up the narrow space. A deep and heavy dread immediately chokes Keith, and he involuntarily reaches out and grabs Lance’s arm as the Paladin draws in a sharp shocked breath.

“Holy shit, Keith, they’re so many…”

And they haven’t even noticed the two of them yet, they could turn around and make it out alive if they left now, Keith thinks. He tugs on Lance’s arm, but the stubborn boy won’t budge, driven by a sense of duty to protect the castle and the team. Colours swirl in Keith’s vision, and he tries to commit Lance’s determined face to his memory, hoping that when he wakes tomorrow this will be what he remembers rather than empty eyes and wide mouth open in a silent scream. And the thought of tomorrow, of living through the day again, having to watch Lance die _again_ has the fibres of Keith’s being tearing apart and drifting away from himself. He doesn’t really feel like he exists, that anything is real, and that he’s watching an awful movie in a detached way. A single clear thought filters through his head just as the sentries’ yell that they have noticed the boys, and it’s the knowledge that Keith gets to repeat the day anyway that emboldens him. His grip on Lance’s arm slides up to the back of his neck, which he uses to pull the Paladin towards him and Lance tries to speak – but now Keith is kissing him, and the words are swallowed up by his mouth. Keith’s mouth lingeres on the other’s for barely a few seconds before he pulls away, grabbing his Marmora blade from his belt and rushing forward to meet the oncoming sentries with the taste of Lance on his lips.

Keith tears through the first wave of sentries that surge forward to meet them, leaving guns available for Lance to pick up. Keith wants to fight his way to the Galra general, to try and stop him from getting close to Lance, but he is held off by sentries trying to corner him. Keith knows what a lack of concentration results in, and forces thoughts of Lance out of his mind as he twists around a sentry, slicing his knife and using his momentum to sever the head from the robot. It collapses with a heavy thud and crackle of sparks.

Keith whirls back around at the sounds of Lance crying out, turning in time to see the Paladin knocked to the floor where he rolls out of the way of a slamming boot. Keith tries to make his way to Lance knocking back sentries that rise to block his way, but there is only so much he can do by himself, and he knows that he won’t be able to make it over in time. The general moves forward as Lance faces him again, and he swings his knife knocking the gun out of Lance’s hands. The brunette stumbles backwards into the wall, eyes wide and afraid as the general moves forward to attack him again. Keith struggles, almost through the sentries, almost able to _reach_ Lance and save him. He slams his blade into the head of another sentry, growling as he yanks it back out and the machine crumples beside him, watching as the general reaches Lance. Keith cries out helplessly as the knife drives forward, perfectly targeted towards Lance’s gut, the unarmed Paladin unable to defend himself as the knife rips through the air…

And embeds itself into the wall. Lance had managed to twist himself out of the way, barely in time, as a shallow cut bleeds from his side. Without hesitating, Lance slips his arm around the generals and slams against his shoulder with all his weight, the strain on the elbow forcing the joint to dislocate. A guttural cry fills the air as the general staggers away from Lance, arm dangling useless at his side. Keith dispatches the final sentry separating him from Lance, who has picked up his gun again and knocked back the general with a blow to the head.

Keith slams his fist against a panel on the wall, as Lance fires a shot that hits the Galra in the chest. The armour protects him, but he stumbles back into the open doorway. Keith hits the panel again and shoots the controls, causing the airlock doors to be stuck closed. The general throws himself against the door as the countdown begins, but Keith turns away to help Lance finish off the few remaining sentries. He tears open their metal chests in a shower of fluid and sparks, watching as Lance manages to finish off the final sentry left.

_…Four, three, two…_

Keith turns to the airlock in time to watch the Galra general be sucked out. His chest heaves from the exertion, and he can vaguely hear the other Paladins making their way down the hall to help him, but the noises are distant and muffled as though he was underwater. Keith turns slowly as he finally catches his breath, to find Lance staring back at him wide eyed, bloody and bruised, and very much alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudos the last chapter! This one was a little self indulgent, mostly because it has been a while since the last chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry for making these poor boys suffer! This is my first fan fic so let me know what you think, and thanks for reading. :-)


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